Intrepidus
by savingprivatewriter
Summary: The rules were simple: kill or be killed. And District 12 Career, Katniss Everdeen was determined to come out alive, to come out a Victor, the boy with the bread at her side. Let the games begin.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I volunteer for a small girl, one that I've seen roaming the halls of the Academy on days when there isn't much training to do. She's in Prims year, I think. Her hair is curly, her face hollow, her arms limp. She wouldn't stand a chance in the arena. Probably wouldn't outlast any of the other Careers from District 1, 2, or 4. Hell, probably wouldn't survive the first night.

She runs off to her parents after I offer to take her place, chanting her thanks as Peacekeepers drag her away from the stage. My eyes follow her for a moment. It turns out her dads the grocer, a man I've spoken to from time to time when I run into him in town. His wife is a thin woman who I've seen occasionally when she comes to visit my mother. They were friends, I think. Back in school when my mother was young and beautiful and not so damaged. They all smile at me, their eyes telling me things they can't say.

Good, I think as I march up the stairs towards an excited looking Effie Trinket who reaches her hand out as if I need help. If I die, at least I'll know my family will be eating. The Academy only helps so far. They provide enough for my family now but if I die, they'll probably give them a few coins for compensation, maybe a month supply of food. Then there on their own unless Prim decides The Academy is the type of schooling she wishes to take. But she won't. She's too delicate, too good-hearted for anything like this.

Being a Victor was always going to be me. The oldest Everdeen, Katniss Everdeen. The one who could work a bow like no other and took after her father's natural ability to survive. The one who had no problem killing animals, therefore no problem killing people because in the eyes of District 12, there was really no difference when it meant food for the starving children on the streets.

Me being chosen by the Academy didn't come as a shock but as I mount the stage, the crowd breathes a sigh of relief, cheering for me once I look out on all their faces. They believe in me.

"And what's your name, dear?" Effie Trinket asks, her sing song voice magnified over the loud speakers the Capitol has set up in honor of the Reaping.

"Katniss Everdeen."

Effie says something else, something about my selflessness and bravery but I don't hear it. Her words are deafened by the cheers of the people from District 12 and the pounding of my heart in my ears. I have been preparing for this for years now but my nerves still get the best of me. Luckily, I have perfected the art of remaining emotionless. I will give no one, especially the Capitol, the satisfaction of my tears today.

My eyes scan over to the roped off section to my right holding boys ages twelve to eighteen, all looking perfectly at ease. I try to pick out familiar faces, people I've seen at the Academy from time to time. There are too many of them to sort through; too many faces I know to narrow it down.

I hope my male tribute is worth something. The last thing I need is to be stuck in that arena with someone hopeless. I'll have to pair up with them regardless. The District would shun me if I fought alone and returned home. Probably make life for my mother and Prim hard even if I die. Either way, fighting in the Games alone didn't benefit anyone.

It turns out Peeta Mellark, the bakers son, is the male tribute. I didn't know before this moment, being boys and girls are kept separately at the Academy for safety reasons or so they tell us. I've spoken to him on few occasions, dinners where boys and girls are intermixed or the one rare time I actually attended something with my classmates. He's a nice boy just like his brothers and father. His mother is a witch but I don't think too much about her

Peeta going in with me puts me at ease, at least for the time being. I'm happy with it in a way. If we're going to be a team, I need someone strong, someone who will be of use to me in that arena. I don't know much about him but from what I've heard, he takes well after his brothers which can only mean good things. They were always fit, well trained and could throw knives like you'd never believe. They weren't chosen for the Games the years they were eligible but if they had been, I wouldn't doubt District 12 would've come home champions.

Peeta volunteers for a twelve year old boy who had no trouble giving up his place in the Hunger Games to him and the crowd erupts into bigger applause. Surely we'll win now, the two of us as a team. We're virtually unstoppable.

As we stand on the stage, cameras flashing in our faces, we interlink hands, raising them above our heads like all tributes do. At least the ones who wish to be presented as teams. I smile with ease and Peeta does the same, waving to the cameras and to the people of our District who chant our names in excitement as we're escorted inside the Justice Building to await our visitors.

I turn just as the doors begin to close, catching a quick glance of Prim, who sits atop my mother's shoulders with a smile on her face, waving her hands excitedly. People congratulate her and my mother, handing them pieces of what look like chocolate and those peppermint squares from the candy shop. Of course, it's all the Merchants—people from the Seam don't have enough for themselves let alone to spare. They also don't look at Volunteering for the Games as something to congratulate anyone for. They see it as a death sentence.

My heart clenches for a moment knowing despite my overwhelming confidence about the team Peeta and I will make, I could very well not be coming home. I could step off my plate before the minute is up, or freeze to death, or the Gamemakers could get rid of me whenever the audience grows bored. I doubt any of this will happen but it is still a possibility. It is still possible this will be the last time I'll be addressing the people of District 12, my home, my family.

I try not to let the melancholy feeling consume me. The last angle I want to play in these games is pity. I don't want to be seen as the girl with the dead father for once in my life. I want to be seen as Katniss Everdeen, the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. I was determined, hungry, and blood-thirsty even if I could convince myself of that. I would be seen as ruthless and Peeta would help me. We would win this thing not just for us but for all the hungry faces that looked up at me today.

I've never been inside the Justice Building but it's just as marvelous as everyone says. It's nothing really to be proud of in retrospect to the things the other Districts have, but here, in District 12 where something beautiful is a rare occurrence, we are proud of our Justice Building. The marble floors, the elevators that barley move but are nevertheless elevators, the crystal chandelier that lights the foyer. It's beautiful though I only get a few glances of things here and there. The Peacekeepers block my view, trapping my body between four of theirs. Back before the Academy, before their were volunteers, most children who were Reaped tried to run in fear. They never got very far but it was uncomfortable to watch on the replays in the Capitol so President Snow just decided to make sure every tribute was escorted from place to place the moment their name was called. It had been this way ever since my first Reaping four years ago.

I'm lead into a small room on the third floor. The room smells of rotted cheese and I fight the urge to throw up. It seems the Peacekeeper flanking me is too by the way he rushes from the room so quickly. The others follow him, whispering something about three minutes and guests and presents but I don't listen. I already know the rules. Instead, I take my few minutes solitude to stare out the one window in the room. The square is empty now, the cleanup crew from the Capitol already making sure all supplies borrowed from them is put on a hovercraft and transported back immediately like the people here would really want to risk stealing material things like microphones and stereos. What people here really need is food. If the Capitol paid any attention they would know that.

I feel the bitter feeling creeping inside of me as images of a malnourished Prim fill my mind. Winning will make sure that never happens again, I remind myself. By winning you'll make the Capitol pay attention.

My mother and Prim are my first guests, enveloping me in hugs, not saying much. We'd said all that needed to be said last night over dinner the academy had for us. Prim knew how to make money from her goat, mother knew where to get the herbs she needed for her medicine. Gale would bring them meat and whatever else he could find in the woods. I'd spoken quietly with Prim about how much I loved and cared for her and how she isn't to join the Academy no matter what happens. She cried and screamed until the weight of the day finally overtook her and she fell asleep in my mother's bed, her arms wrapped tightly around my middle. Then I spoke with my mother about Prim, about how she is to take care of her no matter how sad she may be or what she's feeling. That she cannot leave again the way she did when my father died. That Prim needs her and I may not be there anymore. She'd promised and that was all I needed from her.

"You'll win, right?" Prim whispers, barely audible to my ears. "You and Peeta?"

"Of course. We're coming home, okay? Then we'll live in Victors Village with Haymitch." The last part doesn't sound to appealing but Prim just giggles, refusing to let go of my waist even when the Peacekeeper enters, telling them silently my three minutes is up. He doesn't rush them though and I feel even he may feel a little sentimental. I hug my mother next, not for too long but just long enough. Long enough to tell her I've forgiven her in a way.

I watch as the last view of their shiny yellow hair disappears before letting out the shaky breath I had been holding in, listening to their soft retreating footsteps before the door opens once again, Gale Hawthorne standing before me.

Gale is my only friend apart from Madge whom I may never see again. Our fathers were friends long ago before I decided to join the Academy. We'd known each other since birth, grown on each other through the years, and in a way, became interlocked with each other after the deaths of our fathers who died in the same mine explosion all those years ago. We don't see each other much now. He started working in the mines shortly after graduating from the regular school, making money the only way boys from the Seam really could in District 12. I was busy with the Academy, training to become the killer I am now. We meet in the woods on Sundays though. Well, met.

Looking up at Gale, I'm reassured that what I'm doing is the right thing because if Peeta and I win, I'll make sure Gales family never goes hungry just as I'm sure in the weeks I'll be away, he'll do the same for mine.

We don't talk for a long time, the shock evident on his face as he takes me in. As his eyes take in the dress the Academy had gotten me, one of blue cloth that fits perfectly that I certainly hadn't had before this day. My family had known for weeks about my plans to volunteer—about the honor of being chose to volunteer but the one person I couldn't tell was Gale. The rules are strict. Only the board and your immediate family are to know about the decision. I thought about telling them he was my cousin. He could be. The way his eyes are sunken in his face just like mine, his olive skin and dark hair. But I didn't, knowing what would happen to him if I did. The board takes these things very seriously. It wouldn't surprise me if they locked him in the underground cells below the Academy that I've only seen once one night when I couldn't sleep. I didn't tell him for his own safety and he will understand that.

"Are you okay?" He asks after a while, his voice shaky and unlike anything I had ever heard. I just nod. "How long have you known?"

"A little while," I reply, my voice failing to sound strong when I need it to most. Its okay. If I can fall apart in front of anyone, it will be him. "I'm going to win Gale. I can do this. Peeta can do this. We'll win together."

He takes in my words, nodding along and warring within himself as he so commonly does. He's wasting time not saying anything but I don't want to rush him. These could be our last few moments, the thought doesn't escape me and it surely doesn't escape him. Whatever is said I want to be thought out and meaningful, something I'll be able to hold onto in the arena when things get hard or something he'll be able to hold close if I don't make it back.

"I'll watch them. Make sure their taken care of while you're away, I promise."

I don't hesitate before running into his arms which are already open to me. There is nothing romantic between Gale and I but the feeling of human closeness sends a shock through me and I pray the moment doesn't end any time soon. It does though, and reluctantly I pull away from Gales body as the Peacekeeper grabs him by the arm. It's just for safety precautions but I can see the fire in his eyes, the one that is so easily started.

"I'll see you soon, Catnip," he calls over his shoulder as the door closes with a soft thud, leaving me alone to the sound of my own thoughts.

I don't have any more visitors but I hadn't expected any. Instead, I'm greeted by Effie Trinket who is just stirring with excitement as she rounds up Peeta and I, explaining to us how honored she is to be overseeing our stay at the Capitol. Her accent is comical and I think to myself if this is how all people in the Capital will be. I've only caught snippets here and there on the television inside my bunker when District 12 is spared the two to three hours of electricity we have every night.

I've heard it's glorious.

I don't say a word the entire ride to the train station, letting Peeta and Effie small talk. At times the conversation grows quiet and the air grows tense but Peeta seems to be good at relieving it. I decide, silent within myself, that it will be Peeta who will handle whatever press we may need to do. I certainly am not good with people and won't be much of a help with sponsors. So he will do the talking and I will do the killing. It seems like a good plan.

But when I look up from my lap, I'm staring into his eyes directly. There red and puffy, not doubt he's cried at some point today. Maybe with his father or brothers. I'm certain it wasn't his mother who brought out the emotion.

My eyes give him a silent message. Pull it together. There will be cameras at the station; many more than there were at the Reaping. We need to look strong. We need to start playing this game now.

We arrive at the train station, ordered by Effie to stand side by side in the doorway of the train which will either be delivering us to our destiny or to our deaths. We smile for the cameras. Like I had expected, there are at least fifty, all screaming our names and begging for our attention. Peeta's waving at the small children who have come to see us off and I speak with a few reporters for the Capitol who ask us questions. We answer them all with ease, both having the same generic answers and it seems that I was not the only one educated on proper way to speak to people in the Capitol.

"We must get going," Effie sings, shoving only lightly enough that we would be able to tell. With one last longing smile the doors to the train close and the show faces Peeta and I had put on both soften. He lets out a heavy sigh and I let out one of my own, turning towards Effie whose smile hasn't been replaced.

"Well it is so nice to finally meet the two of you," she sings, clapping her hands together. She touches Peetas face then my hair, a look of genuine pleasure on her features. "We are just going to have the best time, aren't we?"

The chef at the Academy, Sae, had warned me that Effie could be quite the headache but she hadn't warned me for the over use of words and hand expressions. Thinking of Sae, I decide I should write to her when I find my car on the train, thank her for the company she's given me. Of course, this will all be given to her if I don't come back. If I return, she'll be the first one at the Academy I go to see, to thank.

"Where is Haymitch," Peeta asks then, his eyes wandering past Effie and towards the rest of the train which seems to be bustling with life. Oh yes, our mentor. I'd almost forgotten.

Haymitch is the only other Victor District 12 has had. He won it singlehandedly in the second Quarter Quell after his partner, Maysilee, had died at the hands of mutated hummingbirds which picked at her neck until all signs of life had been gone. I don't remember his Games but he is somewhat of a legend being he is the only winner and he won the Games before District 12 was considered a "Career District". He did it with all natural ability and skill.

Since we became a "Career District" we haven't had much luck. It seems all the tributes we put into the games are to slow, to weak. Either that or they don't have enough brains to do simple tasks like avoid the bloodbath at the Cornucopia or not start a fire in the dead of the night. The pair last year were complete idiots, both slaughtered the first night after the female tribute—whose name I don't even remember—fell into a pot hole, breaking her leg and then screaming for dear life. The male tribute would have been smart to run then. She was no good with a broken leg and I'm sure if her family reaped the benefits from his winning, she would have forgiven him for leaving. But being as noble as ever, he stayed, tried to carry her to a hidden space but was caught by one of the Tributes from District 3 who was quite handy when yielding a spear. Needless to say, they were done for and District 12 became a laughing stock as far as Career Districts go.

A lot of people blamed Haymitch for their incompetence. He was supposed to be working at the Academy with the rest of the instructors, teaching us on how to survive in the arena being he is the only one who has actually survived the arena. But seeing him was rare and even when he did bless us with his presence, he was always under the influence of heavy spirits that altered his sense of reality and overall wellbeing.

Everyone had long ago given up on the hope he would be any real help just like I had the moment I'd discovered I would be the one volunteering on this fateful July day. Peeta hadn't though and as we make our way into the main cart, the one filled with so much food I almost faint at the sight, he's eager to speak to him. "To start our training," he tells me with a hopeful look on his face.

He's handsome and I can't deny that. His blue eyes and blonde hair complement each other well, his stocky frame giving him an appearance that no one can ignore. This will be, yet another, advantage for the bakers son. The Hunger Games were in no way a beauty contest but the more attractive a tribute was, the more they were liked, the more people wanted to sponsor them. I hoped in the days following my prep team could transform me to give the appearance Peeta does, make me seem desirable and attractive. But we are a team and it only takes one of us, I suppose.

Effie suggests we sit down for our meal and wait for Haymitch who, according to Effie, is just in the shower "freshening up a bit". Peeta and I both share a look, one that says we know what that means. Haymitch is drunk. Is this surprising? No. Is this infuriating? Yes.

Avoxes bring us the finest foods the Capitol has to offer. Duck, and lamb, and these pieces of chicken roasted in what appears to be a mushroom sauce. The only thought I have as I inhale the food is how much Prim would love it and how much Gale would hate it.

I stop after a moment, realizing Effie has barely touched her first plate and I'm on my fourth, Peeta on his sixth. We get fed better than most of the District in the Academy but it is still nothing in comparison to this. Nothing in comparison to the rich meat and fancy breads and sauces I hadn't even known existed. I don't feel bad for eating so much. They had told us in our final training the first thing we were to do upon getting on the train was gain weight, at least ten pounds or so that is what they recommended. At this rate it seemed I would be doing just that in one sitting.

Midway through dessert Haymitch arrives, a flask in his hand, pajamas on his body. He reeks of alcohol, not bothering to speak to Peeta and I as he pour himself a drink, something dark. Effie purses her lips, shaking her head as she excuses herself from the table, leaving the three of us alone to bask in the warmth of each other's company. Great. Just his presence angers me.

Peeta stands first, tapping Haymitch on the shoulder who responds with bringing his fist up. Peeta dodges the attack so easily it's almost pathetic, holding onto Haymitches fist and lowering it before taking a few steps back. "I didn't mean to scare you," Peeta whispers, hands up in defense as to tell Haymitch he meant nothing wrong by it. Of course he didn't. Any sane person would know that he was simply trying to get his attention.

"Lesson number one: always be on the defense." It seems like logical advice though by the time he's done saying the words, he's laughing so hard he has to double over a cradle his stomach. I've never been fond of Haymitch but in this moment I'm sure I hate him like I've never hated anyone before.

"I don't find that funny," I say through gritted teeth, driving the knife I had once used to cut my chicken, into the table, leaving marks as I make patterns.

Haymitch looks at me then, a thin hand running through his hair which is caked and greasy. I can't hide my disgust. "Oh look at you two," he comments then, taking a seat opposite me. Peeta takes this as a cue to sit down as well. "Do I actually have fighters this year?" It's only a joke but it pinches a nerve and before I have a moment to think, I send the knife I was holding swirling past his head. It misses him only by a millimeter, cutting a lock of hair that falls onto his now cold plate of dinner. The knife lodges itself in the wall.

I've always been handy with a bow but it seemed I had some talents with knives as well.

Neither Peeta nor Haymitch nor I move, not surprised by my outburst or scared of it. We all just stare at each other. "So you can throw knives, huh?" He asks though the question is rhetorical. He knows the answer by the lock of hair sitting in his lap. "Katniss Everdeen, right?" I don't move but that's all the confirmation I need. "I've been hearing about you for weeks." He turns to Peeta then, his eyebrows shooting up. "And Peeta Mellark." He laughs humorlessly.

"What's funny?" Peeta asks through gritted teeth, losing the composure that he's known for. I don't blame him. I lost mine before we even stepped on this train.

"I knew I would get one of the Mellark boys but I never imagined it would be young Peeta," he says, raising the glass to his lips. My eyes flicker over to Peeta, knowing if the words had been directed to me, Haymitch would have gotten another knife thrown his way. That one directed at his heart. I wonder how it feels to constantly be compared to your brothers. They were never in the Games but they were just as equally known as Haymitch. They should've been in the Games. But now Peeta was and I'm beginning to wander if it's because he has the skill to be or because of the pressure from the District to have a Mellark in the running. "But I've heard good things about you. You too," he says pointing my way. "I just don't care for your attitude."

"Yeah, most people don't," I reply.

"We'll have you ever thought about changing it?"

"No. I figure it got me this far."

Effie reenters the car then, clapping her hands in excitement, and whispering something about the Reaping's being played on the TV. I don't hear her entirely because my eyes are still at war with Haymitch but when he offers me a smirk, I take that as a sign of relinquish.

Effie mumbles something about the knife in the wall but no one says a thing.

It turns out Peeta and I are ranked among the top, just below District 1. The commentators speak about our build, our willingness, and the way we show no fear as we present ourselves among the crowds. They say maybe our Academy finally figured out the system. They say we'll be the pair to watch.

I'm surprised to find the tributes from District 3, 5, 8, and 9 aren't presenting themselves as a pair. Their individuals which could quite possibly be the stupidest thing tributes could do.

Being presented as a pair meant that you and your District partner could win together. You could both come home. In all the years I've watched the games, the few who chose to take on the arena alone are the ones who die the quickest. The ones with no one watching their backs. Sometimes the tributes that chose this route change their mind in the middle of the Games once they discover this but the arenas are big and finding one person before someone else finds you can be risky business. Presenting yourself as a pair is really the only choice you have if you hope of winning. In fact, I think Haymitch may have been the last Victor to win alone but that was not even his intention.

Nevertheless, I count eight tributes out already. There's no need to worry about those who travel alone. It won't be hard to take them out with another person and it's not likely they'll kill you with another pair of eyes looking out. Peeta agrees when I mention this. Haymitch just scoffs and Effie whispers something about not being so barbaric.

Barbaric? She's the one escorting me to my death. I say nothing though, knowing she meant nothing by it.

They show the Reapings without any commentary one last time before the screen fades to black and the four of us are left in silence. Peeta, Haymitch, Effie, and myself, dysfunctional but nevertheless a team. I figure in this moment, even with Peetas help, any chance we have getting out alive depends slightly on these two. I'm sure there will come a point where we need food, or water, or even weapons that we won't be able to get for ourselves. That's when they'll come in and I pray that for a moment, Haymitch is sober enough to do it.

Peeta excuses himself and I do the same, following him as he trails towards the back of our train to our sleeping compartments. "What a day," he comments when the air becomes tight.

"Tell me about it," I say. "Did you know I was the female tribute?"

He shakes his head. "No, but I'm happy you are. I'm sure you'll save my ass out there at least once."

I nod my head. It's not likely well get out of the arena alive without a few bumps along the way. "Well save each other," I tell him.

I get to my compartment before he gets to his. I know it's mine by the colorful outlining of my name. When I press my thumb to the keypad, it unlocks. "I guess this is me."

Peeta has already unlocked his own door which is right next to mine. "And this is me."

We bid each other goodnight and when I close the door, I feel more at home than I have in days. With the day passed, I feel a weight off of my shoulders but a new one forming.

I sleep then, Effies soft voice on the other side of the door reminding me tomorrow is a "big, big, big day!".

I sigh. I don't doubt it.

* * *

Peeta and I are escorted to the training center upon our arrival like I knew we would be. The board had long ago went into detail with the two of us on what to expect once we got to the Capitol leading up into the moments we entered the arena.

I don't have any time to check my surrounding before I'm pushed into a small awaiting car, Peacekeepers blocking Peeta and I from view as we fight out way through a large crowd of Capitol citizens, all chanting our names in their accents. Peeta holds on tightly to my hand, not for show but out of comfort. He must see the obvious distress I am with thousands of peoples attentions being focused on me.

This is nothing like District 12.

The air is clear and freed from smog. It doesn't smell of disease or coal. It smells of something much more extravagant than that and I wonder if I can afford to smell the air. The buildings are all made so that they touch the edge of the sky or so it seems, the top floors definitely shielded among the clouds. I wonder what it's like to be that high, to see what birds see as they make their decent from place to place but I doubt the people here in Capitol think of it that way. This is the life they were born into like I was born into poverty and sickness. It was nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Peeta and I are separated at once. He's escorted down a lone hallway and I am pushed inside the immediate door to my right, a room that holds all kind of torture devices that are going to be used to make me look decent. My prep team stands in the corner, all looking mangled and like Capitol property.

The man, whose name I learn in Flavius of all things, brushes through my hair and paints my face with simple makeup. "Cinna wants you to be recognizable," he tells me. I don't know why and I don't know who Cinna is but I can only assume he's the head stylist. I've never heard his name before. Most of the stylist that work for the Games have been around for years, much longer then I have been alive. Some were around before my parents. He must be new. Their constantly trying to find new fresh faces throughout the years so they have something new to report on when things get dull, boring.

My prep team consists of two others apart from Cinna and Flavius. A woman named Venia who will be in charge of waxing my body. They removed most of my hair about a week ago at the Academy to save the District from embarrassment because all the other Career Districts will have been doing this for years to keep up the appearances. It was painful but quick so now Venia has little to no work to do. She doesn't seem too disappointed by it. I suppose being from District 12 she expected some disgusting animal, much like the stray cats that roam the streets in the Seam looking for a home and eating the entrails of all the dead animals. But luckily all she has to do is run a razor over my legs and underarms, taking away the stubble that's starting to grow there. She plucks a few hairs from my eyebrows which went untouched back home.

Octavia is the last member of my team, a plump woman who appears to be one of the women who dye her skin here in the Capitol. I've never seen it in person, just in the Capitol magazines they place under our doors at the end of each month. Her skin in green, much like the color Prims face took once she ate the apples that had gone bad. She works with my nails, sawing and cutting and shaping until there square and then she paints them red, glossing them over once before putting them under a bright light to dry.

"This color looks perfect with your skin-tone, dear," she compliments. I don't say anything, just smile in her direction.

The man of the hour arrives moments later though I don't initially know it is the Cinna I've been hearing so much about. He looks normal, someone I may see running through the town square in District 12. No. His shirt is much to fine for District 12, the silk used to stitch it together nothing not even the richest merchants would be able to afford but nevertheless, I would think nothing of him if I passed him on the streets. Not the way I would think about Flavius, Octavia, or Venia. The only thing that seems to be manipulated by the Capitol is the gold eyeliner he wears on his top lid.

"Hello," he greets softly, nodding to each member of my team before quietly asking them to leave. They shuffle away with no complaints, bidding me farewell before we're left alone. Just Cinna and I. I try to remember what I was supposed to say. Something I had rehearsed many times before the Reaping but in the face of everything, I forget all I've learned. I hope this isn't the case in the arena. I may not need all the mannerism but I do need that.

"Katniss Everdeen. District 12 tribute." I say once I remember, reaching my hand out towards him. His hands are calloused, a lot like Gales. Just another thing about Cinna that gives me an uneasy longing for home.

"You don't need to be so formal around me," he laughs, shaking my hand but looking uneasy about it.

"I'm sorry. I was just directed too-"

"I get it. You're a Career District. I was told things would be this way but I hope they don't have to be. I look forward to working with you and hope we can be friends." Friends? What good would making friends with Cinna do for me? He couldn't get me sponsors therefore couldn't do anything to help with my survival. "I'm here to make people remember you," he tells me, his hand finding my knee in a way of showing comfort. It reminds me of my father.

"People won't remember me," I say. "At least not for all this fluff. They'll remember me because Peeta and I will be the next Victors."

"Awfully confident, Ms. Everdeen." He's not saying it to be mean, just observing a lot like me most of the time. I appreciate his honesty. Maybe we can be friends.

"We've trained for this," I tell him. "A lot."

Training technically wasn't allowed but the Capitol overlooked it. They just wanted a good show and that's what all the Career Districts gave them. Without us, the Games would be a joke. Nothing but scrawny adolescents dying from dehydration and poor kids looking to end their own lives before someone else does. It wouldn't be the big circus it is now.

"On to the outfits, as the opening ceremonies are approaching this evening we have to wear an outfit that reflects your District and its character."

It's a tradition. Every District wears something that represents whatever their District represents. Agriculture. Luxury gifts. Fishing. Things easy to form into extravagant outfits around. Things that actually make an impression.

Coming from District 12 is coal which leaves little to the imagination. Peeta and I will make no impression. We'll be overlooked, leaving us to work harder for support when we get into the arena. I pray someone starts doing their job because as it's looking now, the two of us are going in with nothing.

"So you're painting my body black and putting a head lamp on my head?" It's a fair assumption. It's the only thing I've ever seen the tributes dressed in.

Cinna laughs, shaking his head from side to side. "You see that's overdone. I don't want to do that and neither does Portia." Portia must be Peetas stylist. I've never heard the name before. Suppose they decided to completely go away with the old stylist and prep teams.

"Then what?"

"What does coal make? Fire."

* * *

I'm stuffed into a black leather suit, one that is constricting and conforms to every inch of my body, not giving me any room to hide. I might as well be stark naked and painted black.

The cape that is attached to my neck chokes me, the only piece of my assemble that has a little color. Some gold here and red there. Cinna tells me it's to give the audience something to work with if the flames don't work. I silently hope they don't. I'm okay with being overlooked, at least at this point in the competition.

When Peeta arrives his outfit is identical to mine, though the long sleeves have been ripped from his outfit, showing off his bulging biceps. He looks strong but no stronger than some of the other tributes in the room, all whom I'm seeing for the first time up close and not behind the screen of a television. I wonder who will die first.

Peeta grabs my hand upon arrival, turning his face away from Cinna and Portia who are deep in conversation. "Are you sure about this? The whole concept is giving me an uneasy feeling," he admits. I nod my head in agreement; glad Peeta is on the same page I am.

"Are they real flames? Cinna tried to explain them to me but I couldn't grasp the concept." It seemed the consequences of my years of not going to actual school were starting to catch up to me.

"I don't think there real." He pauses a moment before adding, "At least I hope not."

But before we have time to think of a logical plan of how to avoid the scenario altogether, the tributes are being told to mount their carriages. Ours are led by black horses who, upon hearing the voices on the loud speaker, move to line up without having to be told. Cinna and Portia help steady us in the carriage, making sure we don't fall to our deaths before the time comes. How courteous.

"If I start to burn to death promise to at least try and put me out?" It's a joke but it falls flat and my heart picks up once Cinna comes into view, a match lit that could only mean the inevitable has come.

I close my eyes, missing the beginning of the parade though I hear the roar of the crowd, clapping loudly for the District 1 tributes. I believe their names are Marvel and Glimmer, or something ridiculous of that sort. I try desperately to remember in hopes that I'm not completely shaking by the time Cinna has lit us. That the burns the flames cause don't tear me to shreds in front of all of Panems watchful gaze. I find myself funny, almost. The way I'm on the verge of tears about flames that are not even real but the thought of going into an arena to kill in a weeks' time does nothing to me. Funny how the mind works.

When I feel Peetas hand wrap around my own, I know the worst of it is over. Either that or the flames didn't light, the suits didn't work and we'll go in the long list of names of District 12 tributes dressed in black.

But when I open my eyes it's the opposite.

District 11's carriage just disappears from my view when I finally chance a glance at Peeta who is on fire. Just his black suit and the silly headdress that sits atop his blonde curls. He's radiant. No, we're radiant.

I don't realize we've moved until the roar from the Capitol citizens deafens the voice in my head that's praising the ground Cinna walks on. A catch a glance of Peeta and I on the big screen, obviously stealing the shine from the remaining tributes still making their ride into the square.

I've never seen anything so beautiful. I've never seen two people look so beautiful and as I look out onto the faces of those who praise us, I know they feel the same way. They chant our names, not just a handful of them but all of them. Throwing roses at our passing chariot, blowing me kisses which I catch with one hand, throwing them back into the audience when I do. I don't have to pretend to smile because I'm actually smiling, grateful that for one, I haven't burned to death, and two, Peeta and I will be the only thing these Capitol people remember. That for once we won't be overlooked.

I chance a glance ahead of me, noticing the way the tributes from 11 have turned, curious by the show going on behind them. The girl whose name I believe to be Rue, smiles at me but the boy whose name I think is Thresh nods. They can applaud our performances here. Everything that happens during the opening days is not our work but the work of our teams. Nothing we do really matters, at least not to the other tributes. Just to the Capitol.

Too soon the parade ends, our horses carrying the carriage one, two, three more times around the circle in front of the training center where we first appeared before disappearing into the familiar space. As soon as the doors close behind us and the screams are faded until there's nothing but a fair buzz, the fire on our outfits extinguish on command. Cinna did a good job.

"Good work, Katniss," Peeta comments, giving his hand to me as I jump from the carriage. In heels I stand just as tall as he does and when he looks at me, I can't help the little jump my stomach does. I look away then, not shying away from the hugs my prep team gives me. I even manage to smile towards Effie who is going on and on about being the talk of the town. "Let them talk, then," Peeta jokes, laughing with Venia as she shoves his shoulder, whispering something neither of us can understand in her accent. I look at him then, wondering how in the world Peeta could quite possibly already have my own prep team wrapped around his finger. It isn't surprising though. He's a nice guy, a good guy. I've heard girls at school talk about him. Even though I tend to shy away from interaction outside of what is necessary, I can say he has always been nice in the few passing words he spoke. Maybe this is going to be his edge. Being the good guy who will simply be overlooked until it comes down to the few of us. But being linked with me will put a target on his back because being nice is not the angle I'm playing. Good thing I'm good with a bow and from what I've heard, he's good with a knife.

"Well, well, well," Haymitch says, peaking around Effies corner, dressed sharply. He appears to be bathed and he doesn't smell so bad. I know Effie had something to do with this but I say nothing.

"Where have you been? Aren't mentors supposed to help with this type of thing," I ask, my voice unamused. I want him to know I'm not happy by his presence. I want him to know I don't trust him. I think I get my point across but the expression on his face tells me he thinks the same thing.

"It's not safe for me to be around open flame, sweetheart," he say. My prep team laughs thinking he's made a joke. The rest of us know the comment is true. "But good job. Of course it was none of your doing but I must say the kisses were a nice touch."

I give him a tight lipped smile.

"You might want to consider doing that a little more before the Games start. Selling a strong minded, defiant, mean spirited girl isn't working well in my favor." My face heats up under his scrutiny; mostly because I know what he's saying is true. I try to make myself believe I don't care. Like I said, Peeta will be the likeable one. I'll be the lethal one. "I can sell the cutesy, naïve girl thing though."

He grabs a lock of my hair then and it takes all I have not to break his wrist the moment he comes in contact with me. "Well to bad that isn't what you're getting, isn't it?"

Peeta, sensing that we're both on the verge of making a scene, steps between the two of us, giving me a pleading look. "I worked up quite an appetite, what about you Katniss? Portia? Cinna? You'll join us as well, won't you? It's the least we can do to thank you for all the hard work."

Peeta is so good at this and I've never been more thankful for him than I am in this moment.

"Starved, Peeta," I announce, following Peetas retreating figure as he makes his way to the elevator all the other tributes have already escaped too. I hadn't noticed but it appears everyone else has filtered out, gone to their rooms for dinner and training and drinking—whatever you do here. I don't know. Everything about what happens in the Training Center is kept so secretive that the board couldn't prepare me on what to expect. I'm on my own for that one.

I do know that tomorrow we'll start the training. The four days of training that will end in all the tributes getting scored on a scale of 1-12. The higher you rank, the easier sponsors come, the bigger target on your back. Peeta and I need twelve's. It's never happened before but Peeta and I will be firsts. I'm sure of it.

I'm so distracted by my thoughts that I don't realize I've stopped dead in my tracks. Peeta is the only one who waited for me. When I finally look up, I give a small smile.

I don't pull away when he reaches for my hand.

In fact, I only hold on tighter.

* * *

Please let me know if anything is confusing or it isn't explained well. The idea was a loose one but I felt this chapter and the next chapter that i've already written have come out nicely.

I actually thought about this story while watching the movie, wondering how different would be is from the beginning two tributes from the same District we're allowed to win. I wondered how different the relationship between Peeta and Katniss would be if they knew the only way they could win was together.

I also liked the idea of District 12 being a Career District. I feel it's a possibility that hasn't been completely explored and I wanted the opportunity to try and explore it. I want to know how different things would be if Peeta was more brave and confident about his fighting abilities and if Katniss was a little more arrogant, a little more confident in her own skills. I wanted to know how to the kids of District 12 would hold up if they actually had a shot.

Please let leave a review. Tell me if you love it, hate it, anything! I'm welcome to any and all ideas, criticism, whatever.

Hope everyone had great holidays.

-savingprivatewriter


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The alarm clock next to my bed goes off the next day before the sun has even risen over the Capitol. The moon is still shining through the one window in my room at the Training Center, no stars in the sky. The city is lit, already bustling with life though I have reason to suspect the people here are just getting home. Unlike the people in District 12, there are no real jobs to attend to in the morning, nothing to have to be well rested for. No one here is slipping from their homes at the crack of dawn to look for work or to fall far below the earth. All the people here wake up well past eleven in the morning, not a care in the world but the thought of last nights activities.

You cant see the stars here. Not here when the lights are so much brighter than the natural beauty they hold for themselves. I do pity them for that but the people her don't know what their missing living here. Here where electricity is never at a shortage. Here where the people never have to worry about food...

I find myself hating the Capitol in moments like these when I'm alone and allowed to think these things. Gale never has a shortage of complaints for the Capitol. I know better than to speak as freely as he does but that's only because at the Academy, one wrong word about President Snow would send you out on the streets, with no food, no clothes, no shelter. It was smarter to keep your mouth shut, let everyone else do the talking and only speak to yourself in confidence.

In the dead of the night-well I suppose it is morning-i'm brought back to one conversation Gale and I had, two mornings before the Reaping which, I guess, was really only five days ago, maybe six.

"We could do it, you know," he'd said to me, feet outstretched. We were in the woods. Somewhere we weren't supposed to be but went anyway. Not because my family needed the food anymore but because Gales did and it was somewhere that reminded me of a time when I was just Katniss. Just the girl with a braid in her hair and a bow on her shoulder. Besides, no one was stopping us. The Peacekeepers almost encouraged us. Without Gale and I, there would be no fresh meat. Not for them, not for anyone.

"Do what," I mumbled, my mouth full of bread Sae had graciously given me when i'd left the Academy that morning for the woods. It was Sunday so we were allowed out, allowed to go home if that's what we pleased to do. Most kids didn't but I always did. Before I left I always went to see Sae, toothless Sae who was a comfort many days for me when my mother and Prim were away. She gave me food on Sundays, extra rolls or sometimes, if I was lucky, an apple. Gale never accepted the food I brought though. He called it Capitol property.

"Run away, live in the woods." I wasn't shocked by the statement. He always made inclinations that he believed we could do it or at least he could. I knew I never could, not with Prim and my mother who would reap the consequences of my leaving. I couldn't do that them.

"We wouldn't make it five miles, Gale," I say, not teasing but honest. "They'd find us." And they would. Because by this point and time, I was going to be their tribute. I was surprised when they'd let me out that morning, doing nothing but whispering in my ear the importance of my return. It was no secret where I was going. Maybe they thought i'd run but i'm sure they knew I wouldn't. I was a smart girl. I knew just how much was at stake.

"And do what? Cut our tongues out?" I'm sure that's what they would do. Turn us into Avoxes and force us to work in the Capitol, servants to the rich for the rest of our lives. What a joke that would make. Katniss Everdeen, once a tribute, now servant to the tributes.

Gale would truly have a reason to hate the Capitol then.

"Kill us," I add because, that too, was also a very real possibility. No one had ever tried to run, at least not in my lifetime but killing two people would be no problem for the Capitol. They kill at least 22 on live television every year. Two Seam kids wouldn't be a problem but it would be a very clear warning.

"Yeah, they've kind of already done that." I worried for a moment he'd heard. But when I look at his face, it shows me his words don't have an inch of truth to them.

So my secret was safe that day and I'd convinced Gale not to run. I worry he might, now that i'm gone. Who is there to talk sense into the boy? Not Hazelle, his mother who has the weight of the world on her shoulders raising four children alone and with no money. His siblings are too small to understand anything. Rory might, maybe Vick. I don't know.

A voice in the back of my mind tells me he'll stay. Stay to see if I really do come home. Or if I don't.

A knock on the door interrupts me from my thoughts. "Katniss, dear, are you awake?" It's Effie.

"Yes," I croak, my voice betraying me and laced with sleep. I rub my eyes furiously. I was used to early mornings at the Academy, days where training started early and ended late. But for some reason, I couldn't fight the sleep from my eyes no matter how many shakes I gave my head or how many handfuls of water I splash. I suppose it was my bodies was of telling me I wasn't ready for today.

"Breakfast is downstairs, darling. I would get a move on things. Training starts at ten." My eyes shift over to the clock sitting on the wall. It was only five.

What we would be doing for five whole hours, I didn't know. All I did know was the emptiness in my stomach I am used to had reappeared and now, I didn't have to ignore it. I tried not to feel bad about this but the guilt creeps up. I think about Prim, wandering what her breakfast will be in a few hours when she wakes for school. Most likely grain and milk, maybe bread if my mother visited the bakery like i'd told her too. Maybe Peetas father had given them more than just a roll for the goat cheese Prim made. I hope he did.

Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie are already seated at the table when I arrive though their plates have not been touched. Effie and Peeta smile sweetly while Haymitch looks disgruntled at the head of the table, his spoon tracing patterns into the milk in his bowl.

An Avox pulls out a chair for me. She's a girl, no older than I am with blonde hair and yellow eyes. I wonder what she did to end up this way or at least what the Capitol thought she did. Her eyes confuse me but I try not to linger for too long. I've heard rumors that before their tongues are cut from their mouths, the Capitol sometimes preforms experiments on them. Like Octavias died skin and the jewels Effie seems to have imprinted into the space just above her eyebrows. I had thought they were rumors. Surely cutting their tongues out was enough torture as is but the Capitol was always fond of taking it one step further.

"Oh, how nice of you to finally join us," Haymitch comments, his voice just as tired as mine.

"Ironic enough as it is that you should be saying that to me," I reply, not even flinching when the toe of Peetas boot comes in contact with my shin. "The bar run out already?"

Haymitch laughs, actually laughs at me and not out of pity or annoyance but because I was genuinely funny. After a while I join in, hating the thought of sharing a nice moment with this man but not able to stop myself. Peeta joins in too, putting his forehead into his hands while his body shakes with laughter. Effie is the only one unamused and sits with her lips pursed tightly together, shaking her head.

Peeta and I don't have very many moments left to be at ease so I suppose we're going to have to take them as they come, even if they are with Haymitch at his expense. "I've decided to help you," he says finally, not smiling but looking about as serious as Peeta and I have seen him. Neither of us answer for a moment, judging to see if he's serious enough or not and by the way Effie is leaning forward in her chair, it appears she is too.

"What do you mean," Peeta asks cautiously.

"It's such a shame that it's going to take so much convincing to convince you that I am actually going to do my job." It's not a joke. It is a shame. Maybe three dozen kids wouldn't have died before us if he had decided to "do his job" a litter sooner.

"Why?" I'm unable to keep the venom out of my voice. I don't believe him.

"Honestly," he asks, refusing the wine that they bring around the table. I'm shocked not only that the people here drink wine with breakfast-of all things-but that Haymitch is refusing it. This is the start of a very strange day. "I believe you two could win." I'd had faith in Peeta and I but hearing someone else say is something completely different. "If you two stay together." This means if one of us doesn't die before the other. If that happens neither of us stand a chance in hell.

I look at Peeta then, realizing that I never really considered the fact that the boy sitting next to me with the blonde hair and blue eyes could die in that arena at the hands of something completely out of my control. He looks at me like he just realized the same.

It was very simple. The Gamemakers could send an avalanche like they did one year to a pair from District 6. Or the way the cave fell on the two from District 10. Just two years ago, the pair from District 12 were killed in flood. They didn't know how to swim. They didn't stand a chance. But the girl from District 4 won that year after her partner fell from a tree, snapping his neck. I think her name was Annie but I don't know. I heard she went crazy after the Games, never really got back to normal so the Capitol let her disappear into the background noise of more interesting Victors from the District like Finnick Odiar. But that's all hear say.

"We can win," I say once I find my voice, erasing the visions of broken necks and drowning bodies from my mind. "We've trained and-"

"You've trained but I can promise you, nothing can prepare you for that Arena." All good feelings I had for Haymitch disappear in that moment.

"Well maybe if you helped us, being you are the only one who is still _alive _with actual knowledge of the Games, then maybe the Academy would be more successful," I grit through my teeth. Peeta says something in agreement but I don't hear it. My blood is still pounding in my ears. How dare he put the hard work and dedication Peeta and I have given for the honor of defending our District down.

He doesn't say anything for awhile and Effie is just about to interject when he places his forearms on the table, bending his torso to look us directly in the eyes. I take the challenge and so does Peeta. "First lesson," he says. His breath still smells of alcohol though I know, as of now, none is in his system. "Nothing, and I repeat nothing, I say or do or teach you will be able to prepare you for that Arena. Get that through your heads."

"If you're trying to scare us-"

"Oh, I'm not, Sweetheart. Just being honest," he says, sinking back into his chair. He accepts the wine then.

Breakfast is tense after that when the authentic meaning of his warning sets in. He's right, of course. As much as i'd like to believe I'm ready, who knows how ready I'll be when it comes to making the first kill or how i'll feel after. I look to Peeta again wondering how in the world he could make a kill.

_He's been trained as well as you have, Katniss. _

The first kill is usually the hardest as anyone would imagine. Watching the Games all my life, most tributes who aren't Careers spend the night after beheading a fellow tribute crying into their sleeping bags or screaming uncontrollably. No matter how you prepare yourself mentally, taking a human life isn't easy.

They tell me at the Academy to look at it as if I'm only killing an animal. An animal that is the key to my survival. In a way, that's exactly what it is but this is different. This animal has a family, siblings probably watching on the television at home. Maybe this animal has a girlfriend waiting for him, a future wife, and who knows, in this day in age maybe a child, a child that will grow up never knowing who their father truly was. Only knowing what the Capitol wants you too.

Yes, as much as i'd like to believe i'm only killing animals, I know I'm not.

Before I know it, we've only got an hour until ten. My prep team shows up as does Peetas, escorting us away to our separate living courters. I catch a glimpse at Peeta out of the corner of my eye, just in time for him to send me a shy smile in return. "Such a cutie, isn't he," Venia whispers into my ear, her red pointed nails digging into my shoulder blades. I flinch.

Cinna decides that today, I'm going back to my roots, clothes I'm actually comfortable wearing. The maroon top and black pants have little effect-nothing like the flames i'd worn the night before-but their me. Something I'm comfortable in. Something that i would consider wearing around District 12. The leather boots he puts on my feet are comforting as well, not like my fathers, but close. My prep team braids my hair back, much tighter than I would prefer but I let them do their job, nodding my head when they include me in conversation or comment on my skin tone or obsess over the "splints of gold" in my hair that I hadn't even known I had. The task seems to take much longer than it should but truthfully, I'm in no hurry to get to training.

Breakfast has left me feeling unsettled and I wish to lay down but that isn' an option when Effie is banging on my door, in the loud manner she had this morning. "We have a big, big, big day ahead of us!"

Peeta meets me at the elevator, dressed in an outfit similar to mine though he fills his out more. I look down at my own attire, embarrassed only for a moment at the way the clothes hang, sagging here and sagging there. The perks of living on the border of starvation.

The ride in the elevator is excruciating, both Peeta and I to nervous to speak to one another. I can tell by the way his jaw flexes and unflexes under my watch, his hands circling his wrists many times before finally falling to his sides. "We have to look strong when we walk out of these elevators," he tells me. "We aren't those twelve year olds who have no idea what we're doing. We're Careers." He says the words to me but I feel he's speaking more to himself.

But when the elevator doors do open, we are the last ones there, the only ones dressed alike, and by the smirks we get from the other Career tributes, I can only guess we look the complete opposite of strong. I take a quick glance around the room, not lingering on anyone in particular but when my eyes fall on the girl from District 11, the girl who smiled at us yesterday at the parade, I can't help but feel my heart sink.

Twelve year olds in the Games weren't common but they were seen. They were mostly volunteered for, much like what I had done but it seems the poor girl with dark skin and round eyes wasn't. Her partner is big, three times the size of Peeta, muscles on his forearms probably as big as my head. He looks like someone to be feared and I make a mental note of it. _Good, _I think. _She has someone to look out for her. _

Rue and Thresh. Those are their names, I remember now.

The feeling of hands tugging at my shirt alert me and within a minute, I have my arms flailing on the defense. It's only a startled looking Avox who raises the number 12 at me desperately, blocking her face from the blows she obviously assumed were coming her way. I shy away then, looking to Peeta who has his eyebrows raised in question. I glance around. No one seems to have noticed. "I'm sorry," I whisper to the girl. She only shakes her head because what else can she really do?

"For identification," Peeta mouths. Of course, I knew that.

Once Peeta and I have been squared away, we form a circle around a women who resembles Rue in a lot of ways. She tells us the basic rules, things we Careers already know from the constant training at the Academy.

There is to be no fighting. There is to be no foul language. If you want to engage in hand to hand combat, trainers will be on hand to do so. Yield the weapons with care and so forth and so forth.

I drown her out midway through her speech, taking the time I have to take a good look at the competition. Everyone else seems to be doing the same thing because more than once, tense eye contact is made with a tribute from another District.

I only take notice of a few. The pair from 2, the female tribute from 5, the male tribute from 10, and Thresh. They all stand well above the rest, obviously in good enough shape. The girl from 5 is inches taller than most of us, towering over her partner who is another twelve year old boy who looks wide eyed and nervous as his eyes preview the array of weapons. She has a good 75 pounds on me though it doesn't count against her. She built strong, muscular, tight. Great. The pair from 2 are ranked the highest in the Games, getting the most bets already on their victory. The male is tall, standing at least 6 feet 5 inches, no taller than Thresh but nevertheless, tall. His eyes are sharp, unwavered and he stands with his arms crossed over his chest, calm. He's arrogant much like I am and I know that can be dangerous. His fellow tribute whose name I know to be Clove can't be any taller than I am though from what I've heard in passing conversation between Mentors, she can throw knives just as well as Peeta can.

"Katniss," Peetas voice calls out to me. His arm is wrapped tightly around my elbow and for a moment I've worried I've fainted. Luckily I'm still upright so I'll take that as a good sign. "We start training now."

I look around me, realizing Peeta and I are the only ones still standing in the center of the Training Center floor. Peeta turns to walk away but before he can get too far, I grab ahold of his sleeve, pulling him to my side. "We have to stay together," I tell him in his ear.

"No one else is." He's right. All the other tributes have gone separately to a station, most of the Careers handling weapons while the other Districts twiddle their thumbs at things like plant identification and knot tying.

"We're a team, right?"

It doesn't take anymore convincing. Peeta and I go over to the fire making station, the instructor looking rather eager to have our company. I get the feeling that he doesn't get much of that and I understand why. Fire starting is the perfect skill to have for the Games if you're hoping to get killed. But Peeta insists and for the time being, I don't really feel like swinging any weapons around. I get enough time to do that back home.

I'm excellent at starting a fire. It's effortless and takes me only a matter of minutes to master the skill while Peeta is having a hard time even grasping the concept. My many years in the woods before my fathers death had taught me a lot of things about fire being winters were harsh in District 12. How to start a fire, how to properly dispose of one, how to rid the clothes of the smell using mud... Of course, Peeta hadn't needed to know any of this growing up. He had the bakery where it was always warm. Us Seam Brats needed a little more being coal was to expensive to buy even though we mined it ourselves.

"You're good at this," Peeta comments in frustration, shaking off the instructors help once again. He runs a hand through his hair. "I've never been good at this outdoorsy stuff."

"Well, you've better start learning." I'm half joking, half serious.

"Good things we're a team, right?" And now he is half joking, half serious.

We move on after some time. I avoid the archery station. Peeta avoids knives and weights. No one needs to know our strengths. No one here at least.

We try our luck with spears. I don't have much luck but as it would seem, Peeta is excellent. "Okay, Finnick Odiar," I joke, elbowing Peeta in the ribs as his spear lands dead center in yet another dummy. As I look at the wobbling piece of plastic, I realize very soon that will be a person. Someone in this room...

"You've got it wrong, Everdeen. That was a trident, much different than this thing," he teases back, wiping the sweat from his brow before stepping aside to let me have a try. I throw the thing as hard as I can but it only sticks in the stomach of the dummy, barley puncturing the surface. "That shot would've been fatal." He's right. It would have.

"I just want to get good at as much as I can," I tell him honestly, watching as he, yet again, decapitates the dummy, the insides falling onto the floor of the Training Room. They disappear within seconds. Capitol magic.

"You can throw knives," he asks.

"Not nearly as well as you can." I miss again though this time, the spear manages to stay in the dummy. _Small victories, Katniss. _

"Well I can't shoot a bow for shit," he says, looking over his shoulder to make sure no ones heard us. No one has. "And I don't really excel in all this outdoor stuff, fire making, food finding, stuff like you do. So you make up for not being able to throw a knife in more ways than one."

We're dismissed a short time later and when Peeta and I finally make our way back to the 12th floor of the Training Center, it's nearly 6 in the afternoon. Time sure does fly when you're having fun.

We've taken two steps out of the elevator before we're dragged off to dinner then interrogated by Effie and, a surprisingly sober, Haymitch. We go through the details of our day, not in full detail because everything just seemed to run together. Nothing was eventful, nothing stood out. We spoke to no one and no one spoke to us. There was really nothing to share other than the fact that Peeta and I discovered I have no talents in throwing sharp objects and he has no talents in fire starting. Effie and Haymitch aren't impressed.

"You have to pay more attention to the others because I can guarantee they are paying attention to you two," Haymitch hisses, pointing his fingers sharply at both Peeta and I. Effie nods her head in agreement. "Allies. How do you feel about allies?"

It's common to see alliances form in the Arena when every one is hungry and one person manages to get away with an abundance of food or your District partner dies and your suddenly left alone in the fight of your life. The thing about alliances though is that they all must come to an end at some point and usually that point comes in the dead of the night when someone takes fate into their own hands and slits everyones throat. The only alliance you need is with the person who is going to get you out of there and that is your District partner.

"Peeta and I have an alliance within ourselves," I say, shoveling the white rice that's been placed before me down my throat. I look to Peeta who nods in agreement. Good. So we're on the same page about this.

"It may be smart," Effie says, lifting her glass towards Haymitch who does the same. My eyes widen at the two of them, confused as to how they suddenly started getting along so well. Things change when you leave the room for a few hours.

"It may not be," Peeta counters.

It wouldn't be, both Effie and Haymitch have to know that. District 12 is never allies with the other Career groups. I don't know whether that is their own doing or the fact that 1, 2, and 4, have given up hope that we'll ever be worth something-as has most on Panem-but it never ends up that way.

But I know Clove and her male counterpart will be begging for Peeta and I to be allies once we get the 12's on our private session with the Gamemakers.

We're dismissed after a while though Peeta and I sit in front of the television in his bunker. It's identical to mine but he seems to have fresh flowers placed in every corner of the room. Their orange, obviously manipulated by the Capitol like everything else. I look closely at the flower, running a hand over the petals. We have this flower in District 12 but I don't know the name of it. It isn't eatable so it is no use to me.

"Tulips," Peeta tells me. I look back at him, my eyebrows knitted together. "Those are tulips. We decorate a lot at the bakery with them." So that's where I must have seen them. Thinking back I can remember. They sit in the window of the shop. I've never been inside but their probably hung all around too. The image is a nice one. I know why Peeta has done this. "Of course back home they aren't orange but..."

"There still beautiful," I tell him, taking one in my hand. He won't miss one. He has four dozen others. "Are you going to decorate your home in Victors Village with tulips?"

He shrugs. "I suppose though their a little harder to come by there."

"You could buy them by the pound."

He laughs. "I guess I could."

We really settle in to watch TV then because their doing stories on last years Games. Seneca Crane has been the head Gamemaker for four years now. He took over the year my father died. His Arenas are usually flat, wastelands of some sorts, almost predictable. One year, under pressure from the Capitol, he made an Arena that was completely water, only a few small islands here and there. This meant tributes who didn't know how to swim we're weeded out pretty early in the competition and those who did didn't really have any chance to hide. Everyone had no choice but to fight with one another. As it would turn out, the islands began sinking deeper and deeper into the water as the days progressed, the only safe place to flee being the Cornucopia which was still gold and glistening. The Career tributes from 4 had made their stake there. They won, inevitably. Spearing all the other tributes as they swam.

"What do you think this guys gonna give us," Peeta asks me, one arm swung around my shoulders and the other pulling at the tips of his hair. I notice it's significantly shorter. His prep team must have cut it.

"I don't know," I whisper truthfully. "Hopefully not water." I can swim but I doubt Peeta can. There is no pool or ocean in District 12. No where he would've been able to learn besides venturing out into the woods like I had.

"Yeah, hopefully not."

We're silent then and just watch. The only clear though I'm able to make in the moments are how despicable Seneca Cranes beard is, patterned and swirly and not something he should be proud of.

The programs ends, the anthem playing before the Capitol seal and then the screen fades to black. Neither of us move for awhile, just waiting for something to happen. "I guess that's the end of the nights festivities," I whisper to Peeta, moving my legs out from under me to stand. It's well past midnight. I should have been to sleep hours ago. "Goodnight, Peeta. I will see you in the morning."

He stands too, walking me to my door though it's the one right next to his. He makes a joke about it and he receives a laugh. I validate my presence by placing my thumb on the panel, waiting patiently for it recognize me. "Katniss Everdeen. District 12," it says, unlocking the door.

"Try and get some sleep," Peeta says to me, knocking once on the door frame before retreating to his own room. "We have a big, big, big day!" His impression of Effie makes me laugh and fall to sleep soundly that night, dreaming of the boy with the bread.

The days in the Training Center go by much quicker than the first. I still don't shoot any arrows and Peeta doesn't swing knives around but we definitely do make an impression. I'm skilled at snares and plant identification, Peeta seems to excel in camouflage and swords fighting. Ha. Who would've known?

The Careers keep a close eye on us all throughout the training and we do the same. It turns out the male from District 2's name is Cato. Peeta told me that one day at lunch. He can throw knives but it seems that's the only thing the pair can do. But it isn't a bad trait to have. Glimmer is useless as far as I'm concerned. She tries to handle an arrow but she's not good, not like I am. Marvel, her partner, is good with a spear though. He goes through six dummies in a span of three minutes and if I remember correctly, his eyes were closed. The pair from 4 don't do anything interesting. Hiding whatever it is they can do which is what Peeta and I are doing.

All the Careers minus Peeta and I, sit at lunch together. They don't speak to each other, not like the other Districts do but still. Their silence adds to the intimidation.

When the day comes for our private session with the Gamemakers, i've found I'm unable to sleep or eat or talk at the breakfast table. My eyes are empty and when I go to braid my hair before stepping onto the elevator, strands fall out. I relate it to the stress.

Peeta seems to be the same way. Not speaking to me as we make the journey from floor to floor down to the basement. He does grab my hand though, much like he did during the tribute parade. I'm comforted once again by the warmth.

We walk into the Training Center connected, ignoring the looks we get from our fellow tributes as we take our seat on the bench. Haymitch had already run through what was going to happen. Though we were a team, we would each go in separately. We would do whatever it is we wanted to do and after fifteen minutes, we'd be dismissed. It goes District by District meaning we would go last but that gives us more time to prepare mentally. We shouldn't be nervous, we shouldn't be angry, we just need to do what we came to do. Seemed easy enough.

Tributes seem to dwindle out by the masses. First Marvel, then Glimmer, and so forth and so forth until Rue leaves silently, actually wishing Peeta and I good luck, and we are left alone, hands still connected. We don't say anything in the fifteen minutes we have alone. We just sit there.

And soon Peetas name is called. He goes to leave but for some reason I have a hard time letting go of his hand. "Use the knives first, then the spear because as it turns out you're very good at it." This earns a smile. "Then throw some things around. You have fifteen minutes, make good use of every second."

"Thanks Haymitch," he jokes, tugging on the edge of my braid. "Shoot straight."

I watch his back until the metal doors close on either side of him and I instantly miss the comfort of another person in here with me. Now it's to quiet and I'm to wrapped up in my own mind. I haven't shot in almost a week, what if I've lost my ability in that time? What do I do then? Maybe throw some knives around but I won't come close to being as good as Peeta. I suppose only one of us needs a good score. Maybe it can be him.

It surely hasn't been fifteen minutes but I hear my name over the loud speaker. I nearly miss it with the screaming going on inside me head. It takes me a moment to get to my feet and then another moment to make my feet move. The doors open and the floor is clear and the first thing I see is a bow, not one like my father made but nevertheless, a shiny bow that practically has my name on it.

The Gamemakers all sit above in the balcony they've been in all week, talking and laughing and drinking and I begin to wonder if I'm at a party or my private session. Not one of them is paying any sorts of attention. No one besides the old man sitting in the corner who looks like he's unable to look away do to the fact it would take to much execration to do so. "Katniss Everdeen. District 12," I say loudly, grasping some of their attention. I see Seneca Crane then, for the first time in real life versus the television. I note he looks just as ridiculous.

I don't waste any more time, knowing five minutes have probably already gone by. I take two long strides towards the bow, gripping the metal in my hand, touching the strings. No, it's nothing like my fathers bow but I can't chose now to be picky. It's more like the bows at the Academy which I rarely handle due to the fact I despise them.

_A bow is a bow, Katniss. Now is your chance. _

I send the first arrow flying towards a dummy in the center of the room. Much to my disappointment, instead of sticking in the very center of the dummys chest, it wavers, planting itself directly in the head. Dammit. I chance a glance up but no one is watching me. The old man has even averted his attention else where. They are all standing around a roasted pig. One that hadn't been there moments before.

Tears well up in my eyes then, not out of embarrassment but out of anger. Surely, none of the other Career Districts got this kind of treatment. No. Only District 12 because even now, even before the Games have started, we are already being counted out and I was tried of being counted out.

It takes me no time to send the second arrow flying and at this point, it doesn't puncture the dummy but instead punctures the apple which is lying directly in the center of the pigs mouth. All is quiet for a moment except for the one or two screams coming from a few ladies in the balcony. Now I have everyone's attention but suddenly I don't want it.

I place the bow back on it's stand, extending my arms to my side as I bow politely like I had been taught. "Thank you for your time and consideration."

I hear their gasps as I turn to leave but they can't be surprised. What did they expect from me? I was the hot tempered girl from District 12 and that is what I had given them. The Avoxes near the elevator stand wide eyed as I make my way past them, tears now spilling down my cheeks. I don't wait for them to open the door for me, or click my number, or anything. I do it all myself because I can. I look at them with sad eyes. Hell, maybe after this stunt I would become one of them. That wouldn't be surprising.

Effie, Haymitch, and Peeta are all waiting for me when the elevator door opens. No one speaks for a long time, obviously taking in the sight of the tears rolling down my cheeks. I'm not crying but I'm unable to stop them.

"What happened," Peeta asks first.

I look down at my feet. ""Ishotanarrowatthem," I say the words so fast I know they all run together.

"What?" Haymitch asks, moving in closer to me.

"I shot an arrow at them," I say more clearly, wishing my hair was down so I could use that to hide. No one says anything but I hear the clinking of Effies heels as she walks away dramatically and the intake of breath Peeta gives. When I finally look up, Effie is seated on the couch, her head in her hands and it appears she too is crying. Then Peeta who has one eyebrow raised in obvious confusion and finally, Haymitch. Haymitch who actually has a smile on his sunken face.

"Did you really, Sweetheart?" I just nod, my throat tight. He laughs then, slapping me on the back. I look up at him with wide eyes, confused as too why he is so happy with this. The Gamemakers had probably already called someone to arrest me, to take me to President Snows mansion so they could cut my tongue out on live television. They would probably pull Prim out of school just so she could watch first hand. "That's the best thing I've ever heard!"

"What's the best thing you've ever heard?" Oh great! It seems our prep teams have shown up for the announcement of the scorings. Also to start preparing us for the interviews that take place two days from now. I'd forgotten all about those but at the rate fate was taking me, it looked like I wouldn't have an interview being my tongue would be cut out. Oh, maybe they'll do it then just to ensure all of Panem is watching.

"Katniss shot an arrow at the Gamemakers, Cinna, and no! It is not the best thing you've ever heard! Katniss, honey, how could you do such a thing?" Effie is talking more to herself than me but she parades around, waving her hand in the air with exasperation. Portia and Cinna both look equally as confused as Peeta who has not stopped staring at me in the fifteen minutes I've been here.

I feel guilty then. Not only have I probably ruined whatever chances I had of getting any sponsors in these Games but I have probably also screwed everything up for Peeta. No matter how good he does, it will all be overshadowed by the one I'm sure to get. I'll be nothing but dead weight to him.

"What will they do to her, Haymitch," Peeta finally asks, turning his body away from me and towards our mentor who has taken a seat at the bar. Yes, what will they do to me?

"Nothing," he says with a shrug of his shoulder. "There's nothing they can do at this point in the competition. It would be to much of a hassle to replace you."

I breath out a sigh of relief. "What about my family?"

"You didn't hurt anyone. They won't care."

I worry Haymitch is wrong but both Cinna and Portia assure me he's right. Effie says nothing but continues to stomp around, stopping every few seconds to whisper something below her breathe and then continues her rant again. No one listens to her and Peeta comes to take a seat beside me, flipping on the television. "They'll be on soon," he tells me, releasing a deep breath. I've let him down.

"Peeta, I am so sorry," I apologize, tears threatening to spill over again.

"Don't. It'll make for some fun dinner party stories at our home in Victors Village, won't it?" He nudges my shoulder with his. How can someone be so good and still be picked to do something so horrible? Looking at Peeta, I know instantly he was the wrong choice in these Games. Not because he can't hold his own but because he is not someone who should be burdened with the task of killing other peoples children. He should be living his life safe within the comforts of District 12's walls.

"Oh look, it's starting," Portia says. The room falls quiet then.

The two from 1 both get 9's. Good score, something to be expected from Careers. Cato gets a 10, Clove a 9. The pair from 4 an 8. Thresh gets a 10. Rue a 7.

Then it's District 12. Pictures of Peeta and I flash on the screen. Peeta is first and he gets a 10. I let out a scream of excitement, something completely out of character for me but I'm unable to stop myself. I fling my arms around his neck and he does the same. At least he has a chance. I'll get the one I deserve and be completely overlooked.

But I don't get a one. I get an 11.

We all stand silent for quite some time, not believing what we heard but just as we're about to question it, a gold 11 pops up below my name. I'm at a loss for words. Everyone is District 12 will be celebrating. Peeta and I are the highest scoring District partners. That means we'll have sponsors. That also means we'll have a target on our backs.

"There setting you guys up," Haymitch confirms. There's no excitement about my 11 because we all know I didn't deserve it. What I did was illegal, I'm sure of it but like Haymitch said, it would be too much of a hassle to replace me. The private sessions are just that-private. They couldn't arrest me without explaining the cause and they would never do that. So for tonight I was safe but in three days time I wouldn't be.

"Well, the sponsors don't know what happened. They'll just think Katniss is a good shot," Cinna offers. I am a good shot. He's right and I can hear the phone already beginning to ring in the next room. I look towards Haymitch to see if he has any intention of going to see who it is but he doesn't. He is having an even greater time nursing his drink in his hand.

"Are you going to answer that," I growl, not really mad at him. More at myself, and Snow, and the Gamemakers. Haymitch is just the perfect person to take it out on. "I thought you were going to start doing your job," I say, referring to the previous conversation that had taken place a few days prior.

"For right now, I'd like to drink this drink," he says. "From the looks of it you could use one too."

I could but I'd never had spirits before and mere days before going into the Arena was not the time to try. I turn to Cinna and Portia then who stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Are you here about the interviews?"

"No, actually. Haymitch and Effie will do all the coaching for that. We are just here for dinner," Portia answers. I look over then. It seems dinner has been placed out for us, all the best foods sitting on the glass table, steaming and awaiting my arrival. But I'm not hungry. In fact, the smells make my stomach churn and I'm worried my lunch may make a reappearance on the floor.

"I'm not very hungry," I tell her. "In fact, I just kind of want to go to bed now if that's okay."

"Of course, it's been a long day for us all," Cinna says, silencing Effie who looks like she is about to make me stay. I look to Peeta who has his gaze centered in on the leather shoes the Capitol has given him. Gale wouldn't except those shoes. He would probably burn them before their very eyes and stick to the worn down pair he wears around the District.

From some reason, comparing Peeta and Gale seems like something that shouldn't be done for reasons I don't understand. I don't think either of them would like it very much. Gale was my only friend at times, nothing more. But Peeta was my friend, kinda. I feel we would get along well back in District 12 if he grew up in the Seam. And there was nothing more there either but still. The thought of both these boys coexisting in my mind didn't work out well.

"Goodnight," I whisper to Peeta. He smiles at me, patting my leg as I stand up prepared to leave. No one says anything else as I retreat to my room but I know the moment they hear the lock of my door, they will have many things to say about me. Peeta may even ask to go in alone now. Ask Haymitch to find some way to break it to me nicely. I wouldn't blame him. If it had been the other way around, I don't doubt I would've asked Haymitch the same thing.

I lie beneath the covers in my bed, smelling the sheets that have replaced during the short twenty minutes I spent in the shower. There a pale pink now, much like the ribbon on the ear of Prims goat, Lady. I hope that goat was still alive. It had been sick for a few days, nothing more than a cold probably but it wasnt safe drink it's milk, therefore Prim couldn't sell it.

Maybe the goat man who'd I brought it from was feeling sentimental, maybe sorry for me therefore feeling sorry for my sister. Maybe he'd given her a calf, one that wouldn't produce anything right away but just needed some coaxing, some years to grow and mature. Gale will have kept them fed this long if that's the case. They should be giving him something in return though I know he would never take it. He was too full of pride. Maybe their giving him medicines because I know Posy is prone to colds. He would accept that. If it was something for his family that is.

I miss home. I allow myself to say it aloud for the first time since I've been here.

This was always my destiny. This is the only thing that would make life for Prim and my mother easier but I still wept at the thought of being away from them. I didn't want Prim to grow up solely with my mother but if Peeta and I couldn't do this, if the Arena was in fact too much for us to handle, she would have to.

If I don't win, Peeta must. I'll tell him this sometime soon, maybe in the Arena or before if things start going south. If I break my leg like the girl had, I don't want him to stand by my side, nursing me when we both know the inevitable has happened. He'll run, take the food and weapons I have and fight on his own because it will be better for my family if he does so. Even as I think the words, I worry he won't take them seriously.

I couldn't do it. Not if it was Peeta. If he was the one to break his leg, would I leave him? Could I? I wouldnt be able to walk past the bakery, look at his sad brothers and his parents, knowing that I did nothing to save their precious son. I would give them money, all the money they asked for but I don't know what it would do. The mother would be contempt, I'm sure. The father was nicer, more patient and caring then even Peeta. I doubt the money would do anything to ease the pain in his heart.

But I can't afford to think that way. In my mind, there is no doubt that Peeta and I will win. There can't be or we may as well kill ourselves.

A knock on the door startles me. I crack the door. It's just an Avox, the one with the yellow eyes. I let her in. "Hello," I say. She smiles.

She's brought me water, water and a capsule that must be some kind of medicine here in the Capitol. I look at it wearily, spinning it in my fingers, wondering if she's poisoned this somehow. But why would she? What have I done to her? "Did I order this?" I ask her, raising it to view. She shakes her head.

"Haymitch," she writes down on a post it. Hm. Even more reason not to trust it. I throw it on the floor, crushing it with my bare feet. I leave a powder on the floor, looking up at the Avox who will probably have to clean it. "I'm sorry," I whisper, taking the glass of water from her. It takes me no time to drink every last drop.

"Just leave it," I say as she sinks to her knees. She doesn't listen to me though, continuing to sweep the powder into her hands. "Leave it," I say a little louder, the tears from earlier making a reappearance. "Just leave it!"

She jumps at my tone, dropping what she had managed to scoop up all over the floor again. I don't have time to be sympathetic because suddenly I'm angry and sad and a handful of emotions I can't name. The hand that was holding the once full water glass flies across the room, hitting the wall before dispersing into a thousand tiny crystal clear fragments. A few catch on my hand and I'm bleeding. I inspect the cut. Not too deep. I'll live.

The Avox looks at me in surprise, holding her hands close to her chest. I stare at her then, my eyes wide with fear at my own self. I've never been someone angry, not like Gale. But in this moment I was. I was angry at everyone but the Avox who had no control over her fate. Not like I had control over mine. She must think I'm a monster but who would blame her?

"I'm sorry," I whisper again, rushing to her side as I bend to pick up the scattered glass. I knew I shouldn't. The only thing I was succeeding in doing was making the cuts on my hands worse. That certainly wouldn't help me in the Arena. "I'm sorry," I chant when she finally pulls me up, shaking her head no. I don't know what she means and I want to ask her but how would I do that. She can't speak. She's been silenced.

She takes me to the bed, forcing me to face my palms up, lightly touching the new cuts that have all formed. She pulls the pieces of glass out with her fingernails, wincing herself as they begin to leave small cuts and indentions. I want to tell her to stop but the pain I once felt is now soothed and I couldn't ask her to stop now.

"What happened to your eyes," I ask her once all traces of glass have been removed. She pours alcohol on my cuts. It hurts but I say nothing. She looks up at me through her eyelashes. "Did they do this to you?" Yes or no question. She could answer that with a simple shake of her head.

She nods her head like I had expected her too.

"I'm sorry," I say to her, reaching my hand to place it on her shoulder. She jumps at the touch and I know I probably shouldn't be doing this but I don't care. "I really am."

And I am. I'm sorry they made her their property just as they had made me theirs.

But she looks at me with equally sympathetic eyes. She's sorry for me too. Because what they would do to me would be much worse than coloring my eyes and cutting out my tongue.

They were turning me into a killer and I was letting them. That is, if someone else didn't kill me first.

She tucks me in after that, like my mother used to do.

I only get to whisper my thank you before she's gone, leaving me alone.

Sleep came soon and I let it.

* * *

Chapter 2! How was it?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There is no alarm to wake me the next morning, just the sound of an already bustling city. It takes me awhile to adjust to the light that's flowing freely through my window, actual sunlight and not just the bright glow of the city. It must be well past nine. I try to remember a time when sleeping this long was actually an option but I can't remember. I don't believe I ever have. Maybe when I was sick at home or the one time a trip to the woods had meant a broken foot. I suppose I was allowed to sleep late then but even on those days, I rose early with Prim, braiding her hair and made sure she ate whatever we had. My mother wasn't going to do it and someone had too.

Regardless, sleeping in was a luxury. I felt more rested than I have in months. I wonder if Peeta was allowed to sleep this long today or if it was just me. Maybe the Avox whose name I still didn't know had gone to Effie after leaving me last night, telling her I needed rest or that I had lost my mind. Maybe they'd let me sleep. There was nothing on the agenda today. The interviews were tomorrow and today was supposed to be spent "preparing". Knowing Haymitch, he wouldn't have anything to say in terms of actual help and Effie would probably just reprimand me on my hair or my scowl. I was hoping Cinna and Portia would be here, maybe even my prep team. I was finding that I was having a much more enjoyable time speaking to them then I was anyone else. They momentarily distracted me from my issues while everyone else seemed to just put them before me.

I lie in bed a little longer, inspecting my once bruised and bloodied hands which now had no trace of abuse on them. There is no recollection of my momentary break down and I'm thankful for that. I'm sure cut hands wouldn't completely count me out all together but it would be much harder to handle a bow. The Avox must have done something to them, put some kind of Capitol medicine in me while I was sleeping. I should find her and thank her but it would be too hard to explain if anyone saw us. We weren't supposed to talk them, not unless we were giving orders. Effie enforced the rule but I'm sure Haymitch wouldn't. I decide then, i'll find her late at night when I'm sure the rest of the train is asleep.

The growling in my stomach makes me move finally, after what feels like hours. I shift through the drawers of the cherrywood cabinet, amazed that such a beautiful tree made such beautiful furniture. Back home, no one would ever see anything this expensive. This alone would probably feed my family of three for six months, Gales family of five for three. The clothes it holds are a completely different story. Though there much nicer than anything I would wear back in District 12, they still remind me in a way of home. The worn down jeans, the leather boots, the dark colored shirts. It wasn't too far of a stretch from my every day wear.

I find a pair of jeans I like, ones that actually fit snug around my legs, making me look like a women and not a preteen little boy. Then a shirt, one that is made of silk. I don't have to wear anything underneath because even though it is the smallest thing in the drawer, it does little to fit me the right way. My mother would spend hours trying to fix it so it was acceptable to wear in public. But here I didn't care. It would only be a matter of days before the clothes in this drawer were nothing but a distant memory in my mind. I'm sure whatever I wore in the Arena would be worse than the lose fitting silk shirt I am in now.

I check Peetas door before going to find a source of food. I knock lightly, knowing he'll hear me if he's inside. I suppose isn't because I don't get an answer. I look down at the keypad then, wondering if it actually works or is just for show. I press my thumb down on the indicator. It does nothing and the door does not unlock. Hm. Interesting.

Avoxes greet me at every turn though I'm unable to find the girl with yellow eyes. I think about asking but I don't want to get her in trouble. I'm not sure if she broke any rules in trying to help me but if word gets out, I'm sure it may unsettle some. So I keep my mouth shut but keep one eye open.

It turns out I find everyone at the end of breakfast, all smiling and laughing about something Peeta has said. Our stylists are here, Portia already wearing one her elaborate hair pieces and Cinna with his gold eyeliner. They smile at me as I walk in. I'm thankful their presence. Haymitch mumbles a greeting, Effie raises her glass, and Peeta smiles, his crinkling at the edges as he raises his hand. "Did I over sleep?" I ask quietly, taking a seat next to Peeta. He throws his arm around my shoulders like he always does, not wasting a moment. This physical interaction should unnerve me but it doesn't. It feel comfortable somehow. Right.

"Not at all. We decided to let you both sleep in a little," Effie says.

"While we can," I finish for her, finishing whatever egg mixture Peeta had left on his plate. Going to bed without dinner is catching up on me. Now I'm starved. The days of sleep and unlimited food we have are dwindling. In fact, we only have one more day. One more full day here. I hadn't noticed until now or maybe I had and chose to ignore the fact. I ask for another plate of eggs and a pound of bacon. No one bats an eye as I do so.

"About that," Haymitch starts, leaning forward on his elbows. I know this is how you can tell if they man is being serious or not. "What is first thing you two do after the gong sounds? What did they tell you in the Academy?"

"Retrieve weapons," Peeta and I both say at the same time. It appears our training has succeeded in teaching us the most important things. It would be dangerous to go into the Arena without a weapon with you, even one knife was better than not having a thing.

"Wrong," Haymitch says, slapping his hand on the table for emphasis. Peeta and I jump, everyone else remains unphased. They were used to it by now. Peeta and I were still struggling to understand it all. "You get the hell out of there and as far away from the Cornucopia as possible."

"With nothing?" Peeta asks before I'm able too, his eyes weary. "That just seems very risky." He was right. One year, there was no water in the Arena other than the melted ice on the top of the mountain or the water bottles that were stored in the Cornucopia. Most tributes who didn't initially grab something at the Cornucopia died within a matter of days from dehydration, not having enough strength to even attempt climbing the mountain. Since those Games, it's pretty common to at least attempt to grab something, a back pack if you can or even something as pointless as a pen. The point is, you never know what the Arena holds and leaving the Cornucopia with nothing has never worked out in anyones favor.

"If you grab anything, you grab something within ten feet of you. No more," he tells us. I look down at the square tiles on the floor, counting ten of them with my eyes. It wasn't very far and if that was as far as we were venturing out, there wouldn't be anything to grab but terrain. I already didn't like the idea and the look in my eyes must have told Haymitch something. "I mean it," he says sternly. He locks eyes with me then. "And I'm talking to you, Katniss." Of course he was. Peeta would listen. Peeta was the good one in this trio. I was the defiant one. I would be the first one on the move. There was no point in denying it.

"Peeta and I can fight," I tell him, not breaking his gaze for a minute. I have no doubt we can after seeing what they had to show in the Training Center. Peeta and I could handle a few knives, dodge a few spears. Maybe I was being slightly arrogant but I was sure we could make it out of the Bloodbath alive. A little scratched up but nevertheless alive.

"You are just begging to get yourself killed girl," he tells me, shaking his head. In his eyes I'm a lost cause. I'm sure now he's just hoping to get at least Peeta out of this thing alive. "You're telling me you can kill all six of those Career packs? And whoever else is dumb enough to stick around and fight?"

He's right. The Career packs are most likely allies. They've created a group that is going to watch each other backs, at least until the end. Killing all six of them before being killed is stupid and nearly impossible. I try to think of else might stay. Maybe the girl from 7. Thresh might but I can't see Rue wanting too. Their a team and unless they want to split up during the bloodbath, I don't see them being a big factor. Everyone else I'm sure will run. Deep into the Arena where we won't find them until the Gamemakers drive us back together.

He must see the resolve in my eyes because he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair, hands on the belly all the alcohol he has been consuming has created. "Girl on Fire, those Gamemakers are going to burn you out."

"Give it a rest, Haymitch," Peeta snarls in my defense, throwing half a roll his way. Haymitch catches the thing in one hand, soaking it in the contents of whatever he's drinking before popping it into his mouth. I think for a short period of time about throwing another knife, maybe my fork or something that will have more of an effect. I decide against it. Way to many witnesses at this table. It was different when it was just Peeta, Haymitch, and I.

"We have some coaching to do today, just for a few hours," Effie tells us after a tense moment, drawing our attention back to the task at hand. Today was not the day to be worrying about Bloodbaths or the other Careers. No, we were still in the period of time where press was truly the matter to the success of a pair. Peeta and I still had a lot of impressing to do in the Capitol though it wouldn't be much of a struggle any longer. We had scored a 21 together. That wasn't going to be overlooked on matter how bad the interviews went tomorrow. "Cinna and Portia will be helping you on how to conduct yourself. Like how to sit, how to laugh, how to smile." Effie gives us an example which is quite impressive I must say. "Katniss, honey, today you will be learning to walk in heels. Bless Portias soul, am I right?" I give her a smile. Not an honest one but the best one I can manage. I suppose I do have a lot of coaching to do. "And then you two will come work with Haymitch and I on how to answer the questions in the interview."

It seems that the one thing the Academy had failed me in was the art of being nice and pretty. It had been two hours since our training with Portia and Cinna had started and the only thing I had succeeded in doing were injuring Peeta and I after my failed attempt of walking in heels.

According to Portia, my smiles were unpleasent and tense. Peetas were fake and almost sad. "You two look so much better when your-"

"Comfortable?" I interject, raising an eyebrow in desperation. Portia claps her hands together in agreement, nodding her head and then whispering something to Cinna who hasn't said one word through the entire process. I've been strapped into heels that give me at least ten inches of height. I tower over Peeta and can see the top of his head, where his blonde curls form and where they end. A few times, I rest my arm on him for comfort. He laughs and explains he's the one who will be laughing when I bust my ass in these things. I promised him I'll be doing the same.

"Maybe we just aren't good at this, have you ever considered that?" Peeta asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He looks just as worn out and tired as I do. I wonder if he's sleeping any.

"You're great at this, Peeta dear," Portia coos, running a hand through his hair then using the pads of her fingers to smooth it down. "You two just need some tweaking. It'll come along."

It may come along but it isn't like any of this will matter. Not after tomorrow night. No one will care about the dress we wore or how good I walked in my heels. It's all so insignificant in the grand scheme of things and I want to tell her so. I want to tell all of Panem so but it seemed I was already in a bit of hot water so I bit my tongue.

So we practice some more. Me walking up and down the hallway leading to our bedrooms, Peeta with a hand on my waist as he escorts me from place to place, smiling at the adoring fans who pray for our survival, and finally a bow that ensures we are done.

"Well, there is nothing more I can do," Portia exclaims after our seventeenth departure down the stairs. I agree as does Peeta and we move on to lunch before we can be swept away by Effie and Haymitch in less then an hour.

Our lunch is simple. Some ham, bread, and a few pieces of cheese. This was something we would eat on holidays at the Everdeen household if things were good. The butcher would give us the old ham, the ones that no one really wanted but that were still okay to eat. We loved them and ate off of them for days because meat like that was so rare. We would buy bread from Peetas father in exchange for the squirrels he likes so much and then some of Prims goat cheese if she hadn't sold it all at the Hob. It's nothing but good memories yet tears still sting my eyes as I take the first bite.

"Something wrong?" Peeta asks me. I'd forgotten for a moment he was even there.

"Reminds me of home, you know?" And he does know because by the slow bites he's taking, I know he feels the same way. As good as it will feel to never have to taste old ham again, I wouldn't complain if I was having one of these sandwiches with my mother and Prim versus here in the Capitol. "Your father always traded me bread for squirrels I kill in the woods. He'd always make much better trades than he should have but I wasn't complaining. It fed my family for a couple days."

Peeta nods his head. "Yeah, your squirrels are always the best. Right through the eye, my dad always tells me. You never puncture the body or anything else."

I frown at Peeta then, my eyebrows coming together in confusion. "You've had my squirrels?" I never imagined merchant families eating the way Seam families did. Especially not Peetas. Squirrel was only something you'd eat if were desperate, if you really needed protein in your life. Merchant families could afford things like beef and chicken, things Gale and I couldn't get in the woods. But Peeta nods again, finishing off his first sandwich and then asking politely for another.

"Yeah. If it was a slow month, it was all the meat we would have. Of course we had a lot of bread and cheese, but it was always the stale bread and rotting cheese. Never any of the good kind we sold to customers." He says the words without an ounce of self pity. "But I'm glad my dad made good trades with you."

I am too. "Your mother never bought the squirrels. If you needed meat so badly, why would she always refuse them?" I know I shouldn't ask about his mother. It's a sore subject and I knew that before I had even met Peeta, before I knew what kind of position the two of us would be put in. She was a mean lady, not just to her own children but to almost all the children in District 12, their parents too.

She was bitter for reasons I didn't understand. She had a home, three sons who were royalty in the District, and a sweet husband who took care of her. Although, from the way Peeta makes it sound, the struggled, she always had a warm bed to fall in to at night and the comfort of knowing she knew where her food was coming from the following day. I couldn't say that about everyone living where we did.

"My moms just... different," he says struggling for words. I've heard rumors that she hits the boys but I couldn't tell you if it's true. It may be but I would never ask. She won't hit Peeta anymore when he wins. She'll have no reason too.

"Well that makes two of us," I tell Peeta, finishing off my own sandwich but not having an appetite for anything else. Peeta looks up at me with sad eyes and I wish he wouldn't.

It was no secret my mother had lost her mind after my fathers death. Sure, she'd found it but it would never make up for the years I had lost due to having to take over her place in Prims life. I almost didn't trust her. Not with Prim. Not with the money. Not with the responsibility. I doubt she would mourn for me the way she mourned for my father though. She loved me but not nearly as much as she loved him. Most of that was my fault. I had pushed her so far away by the time she came too she never got the chance. I had tried my best to honestly forgive her in the weeks leading up to the Reaping. If I didn't make it back, I didn't want her to think I hated her. I didn't hate her. At least I was trying to convince myself of it.

"Your mother was very beautiful once or so I heard," Peeta says. This brings a smile to my face. She may be crazy but she also is beautiful and the two, in a way, go hand in hand.

"Yes," I say. "Still is in a way if you're able to get past the glaze in her eyes and the tiredness she takes on now. Prim looks so much like her. I hope she never has to bare the weight like my mother did. I want her to stay beautiful forever."

"Your mother is still beautiful," he whispers. I wonder when he's seen her, if it's been recently. I don't ask. Portia had said I needed to learn to accept compliments so I suppose this would be my first one. "Just like you are beautiful and Prim is beautiful." My cheeks burn at his proclamation and he must see it because he leans back in his chair then, removing some space between the two of us. Suddenly, the air seems tight.

"I'm sorry we have such ruined mothers," I tell him. He laughs.

"Yeah. It does kinda suck, huh?"

And this is the common ground Peeta and I both have. I finally understand why the air feels so comfortable around him, much like it does when I'm deep in the woods with Gale. We're both children who come from homes ruined by things completely out of our control.

Effie comes into the dining area a little while later, seething about something Haymitch said or did and I know, for now at least, whatever truce they had was over. "I swear. Some times I am just about ready to pull my hair out, I'll tell you two that!" She spits. If she pulled her hair out, it would come out in one piece being it is a wig. I can't help but smirk but I do manage to keep the comments to myself. There is no use in being mean to Effie. She does only mean the best. It's not her fault the Capitol has put all it's worse qualities in her. "Up, up! We have coaching to do. You two have certainly eaten enough," she comments, her eyes falling on the tray that once held the sandwiches. We had and now I was feeling the aftermath of it.

She takes us to her room, one twice the size of the rooms Peeta and I stay in. I gape at the large area, knowing certainly one women could ever need this much space. Not even Effie Trinket. "A little outrageous, no?" She asks, looking at our gaping faces. We both nod numbly. I wonder how many times my home in the Seam could fit in here. At least ten, maybe fifteen give and take some. When I go home, I'll tell Prim all about it.

"Is Haymitch joining us?" Peeta questions, sitting in the plush chair opposite Effie. I do the same, my body sinking it the cushion. Effie nods, her eyes flickering to the clock she wears on her arm. It's a watch. I think that's what they call it. No one wears one in District 12. There much to expensive for anyone to afford. We stick to the Capitol issued clocks we all receive. They only give them to us so we'll be punctual for things like the Reaping. Other than that we don't really have any use for them. Most people just sell them to the working families who use them. I bet Peeta has more than one clock in his home. They would be of actual use, at least at the bakery.

Haymitch arrives a good twenty minutes later, wearing something different than he had been at breakfast. He smells of vomit. I put the pieces together, solving the mystery of the disgruntled Effie we had seen earlier. "Feeling better?" I ask.

He grunts, moving over to sit next to Effie. An Avox brings him a glass of water which he accepts happily. "Well the sight of you two isn't helping much, but," he trails off, wiping his bare feet on the white carpet we all sit atop. He leaves black streaks. Effie shrieks and Peeta whispers something about being nice. I laugh because I don't know what else to do.

"What is this, Haymitch," Effie shrieks, motioning for an Avox. They come quickly, pouring a cleaning mixture on the stain. It disappears distantly. That would be of great use back home where coal dust stains almost everything.

Haymitch shrugs. "Something that cat dragged in." No one talks anymore about it but Effie looks pale, Peeta looks disgusted, and I am unphased. I've seen worst things in my life. Maybe Peeta and Effie haven't. "Now are we going to start this training or what?"

"Why exactly are we getting etiquette training from a dirty old drunk who just wiped his dirty feet on your carpet," I argued, looking towards Peeta for help but he remains silent. I guess I'm on my own on this one.

"I was just about to ask myself the same thing, dear," Effie agrees, her eyes narrowing at Haymitch who looks amused. He raises his glass of water at the both of us.

"The boy is my favorite. I don't know if you two have figured that out yet," he exclaims, laughing as he clinks glasses with Peeta who looks stunned by his admission. I don't know why. It was no secret but Peeta is to humble to see it.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with, okay?"

It takes us three hours to make any progress.

Peeta needs no help conducting himself. From the moment we began he had no problem answering Effies "made up" questions, cracking jokes, and mastering self-deprecating humor. Effie had fallen in love with him in minutes, barley having to correct the way he sat or said things or smiled and laughed at all the appropriate times. A few times, Peeta even managed to make Haymitch give a small chuckle. It took them about forty-five minutes to perfect whatever they needed to perfect. After that, both Effie and Haymitch had no disagreements on the fact that he could not be more ready.

I, on the other hand, was a different story.

I was mean, cold, angry. All the things they didn't want me to be. I was not good at making fun of myself, of the Capitol audience, or any of the other tributes. I wasn't funny like Peeta or sweet or patient. I couldn't manage to keep the scowl off of my face for more than five minutes and all my smiles seemed forced and ungenuine. I was losing the audience from the moment I walked on stage or so that is what Effie tells me. Haymitch tells me I have less personality than a bag of rocks but I had already known that.

"I can't do this!" I yell in exasperation, pulling at the ends of my hair. Peeta tries to calm me down, telling me that I'm just to tense but somehow him telling me this does little to help with my stress. "I'm not Peeta! I can't be charming."

"You're not supposed to be, honey. You're the female tribute. You're supposed to be sexy and fun!" Portia tells me. Our stylists decided to join us after Effie had voiced the obvious problems we were having with making me seem appealing. They were little to no help. Cinna, once again, being quiet and Portia being too much of everything. They helped keep Haymitch under control, his mean slurs to a minimum and I suppose I owed them for that in the least.

"I'm not fun or sexy or anything of that nature!" I scream, turning my eyes toward Cinna who is giving a slight shake of his head.

"She's right," Haymitch mumbles, asking for yet another drink. I don't blame him. I would've done the same thing by this point. Peeta knocks the glass out of his hand though, ignoring the curse words Haymitch throws at him. "You were my favorite. I'm back to hating everyone."

"Maybe she should play the arrogance angle," Effie says, looking uneasy. I could play that angle but it would be my life line. The last thing I could hold onto is the ship began to sink. Everyone agrees this is the only thing that's going to work. Maybe because I am arrogant. There wouldn't be a lot of acting going on. "Katniss, honey, we've tried everything we can but really, this is all up to how you wish to play it when they call your name tomorrow."

"We'll be last. It will be just like the private sessions. No one will even care by that point. I don't know why we're having to go through all of this," I say below my breath, shaking away the Avox who is at my side with wine. She must have sensed I need it. When I look around everyone is drinking, even Peeta who is taking very small steps but still. I've driven everyone to drink. Great. "Actually, yeah. I could use that now." She brings it back and I down it in one gulp, instantly wishing I hadn't. How does Haymitch do this?

"They'll be paying attention to you," Cinna began. He leaped into a story about how all anyone cares about are the Career Districts. No one cares about the middle Districts that end up getting lost in the shuffle of things. He at least tries to convince us of this but it's no use. I know that's a lie. No one here even considers 12 a Career District. "And besides, the two of you got the highest scores. There is no way they could possibly overlook Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen." Maybe he is right.

"We're all just tired," Peeta says then, setting his still full glass to the side. Haymitch grabs it and empties it for him. "It's been a long day."

"If you think these are long days wait until you're in the Arena, four days in with three hours of sleep. Those are hard days," Haymitch barks, the alcohol obviously bringing out the worst in him.

"You know what he means," I cautioned. "I think you might need to go to bed, you're getting a little hard to handle."

"Oh, I'm getting hard to handle?" He laughs. "Effie, isn't that funny? I'm hard to handle!"

"Oh please, Haymitch. I'm supposed to be this way. What other way if there that I can win?" I challenge, stepping around Peetas broad body which has stepped in-between us.

"Touché. I feel like you've forgotten that I, too, have one this thing once." He taps the top of my head condescendingly. "And you haven't won anything yet. Don't get too ahead of yourself. Arrogance may work for your interviews but I'm terrified it may have the opposite effect in the Arena."

"Don't worry, Haymitch. Once Peeta and I do win this thing, you won't have to mentor another damn kid. You can get black out drunk in your disgusting home in Victors Village and not worry about a thing! Maybe then Peeta and I might actually be able to bring some kids home. Start doing the job you've neglected to do all these years!"

All is silent after my rant. Portia and Cinna looking surprised. Effie looking disgruntled. Peeta looking exasperated. And Haymitch. Haymitch with that damn smirk on his face which never seems to disappear. If he were going into that Arena, he would be the first one on my list, I'm sure of it.

"Good luck with that, Sweetheart," he mumbles, walking past me and through the door he had first entered through. I worry for a brief second that i've upset him. But he deserves it. Someone needed to say it and I suppose it needed to be me.

"Well, Katniss, I hope you're happy-" Effie starts but Peeta interrupts her.

"I think she gets it, Effie. Can we all just please have dinner now?" Once again, the boy with the bread comes to my rescue.

They all leave, all but Peeta who stays with me until their footsteps have far been drowned out by the sound of city beneath us. "Thank you," I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.

"I get it, Katniss. Constantly being compared and ridiculed can get hard on anyone." He does get it. He must feel the way I feel now after growing up with his brothers, always in their shadows, never quite living up. Things are a little different for Peeta and I but in a way we understand each other. Again. "He just sees a lot of himself in you."

"Has he told you that?" I ask.

"No but... Have you seen his Games?" I shake my head. They were years before I was born. They weren't a teaching tool for me anymore. I never felt the need to watch them. "They played them back at the Academy, probably a year or two ago, I don't know. But arrogance is pretty much how he won, you know. Playing it off in the interviews, getting an okay score at the private sessions, just being above it all." I understand. "Anyway, when his partner, you know, died, he couldn't be arrogant anymore because it really was just him. Of course, by this point there were only four left, one team, Haymitch, and some girl from District 5. I don't know. He had a really hard time winning, almost died plenty of times."

I try to imagine Haymitch bloodied and dying but find it hard too. I find it hard to think back to a time when he was in the very position Peeta and I were in, fighting for his life with twice the numbers of competitors. But he was alone. He was alone and I find it hard to believe a sixteen year old boy with no fighting experience won.

"How did he win?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"He used the Arena as a weapon believe it or not," Peeta laughs, shaking his head. "Got himself in a lot of trouble from what i've heard. Whole family gone, girlfriend, everything." I feel a bit of pity for him then. "I think that's why he drinks so much. He wants to forget but on top of that, he has to face the Capitol every year. The Capitol who killed everything he ever loved. It can be hard."

So that's how he did it, by outsmarting the smartest people in the Capitol. I don't doubt that got him in trouble, lots of it from the stories Peeta is telling me. But I start to understand. I don't know how I would be able to return year after year, having to look the man who killed the ones I loved in the eye, shake his hand, smile for the cameras. I had never heard about this so I suppose they kept the killing under wrap. Made them look like an accident. The Capitol was good at things like that.

"It doesn't make sense to me. He never comes to the Academy to help us, doesn't help the tributes in the Arena. Then he treats us the way he does, like we're lost causes. I don't know about you, Peeta, but I'm tired of being seen as a lost cause," I growl.

"I don't think he wants to help at the Academy because he doesn't believe in it," he tells me slowly. I don't understand. "I don't think he wants kids to go through what he had to go through. He doesn't want kids to volunteer for these things. He doesn't want it to be seen as anything to be proud of."

"Kids would have to go through this wether we volunteered or not," I tell him. "Would he rather it be some poor defenseless twelve-year old or people like you and me who have trained for this? Ones who actually have a shot?"

Peeta raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, I completely understand the volunteering thing. I did it, did I not?" He pauses, swallowing heavily. "I just... I just think that he believes fate is fate, you know? I think he thinks us volunteering is a sign of arrogance like he had."

"So he doesn't want us to end up old and alone if we come out of this thing?" It's harsh but Peeta nods.

"I think he's worried you might be biting off a little more than you can chew," he admits with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Do you think I'm biting off more than I can chew?" Peetas opinion is really the only one that matters. He is the only one that will face the consequences of me "biting off more than I can chew", which I think is a funny but completely inappropriate saying being where we come from.

"No. I think if anyone can handle it, you can."

"I trust you too. To get me out of there," I coughed.

"Good, because that's what I'll be doing."

I'm woken, yet again, at the crack of dawn. Not by Effie though, by my prep team who is equally as sluggish as I am at this time in the morning. All of their skin looks just as green as Octavia who is the only one with a true smile on her face. I wonder if they were out last night, enjoying all the parties and festivities that Peeta and I and all the other tributes were bringing to the Capitol. They must be. They must be viewed as royalty, at least for the time being.

They wax my legs again, whispering to each other about how atrocious they've become in the few days I've been in the Capitol. My face is washed and my body colored with glitter. They paint designs not only on my nails but my face, feet, and right above my eyebrows. I fear I'll resemble a Capitol resident but when I look in the mirror it's the opposite. The glitter doesn't make an appearance unless I hit the light just right and when I do, I'm on fire. I remember what Haymitch called me then, just the other day. Girl on fire. I wonder if that would stick here in the Capitol.

Cinna arrives hours later, after the prep team has done everything to me but put me in a dress. We hug, smiling and chatting for a few minutes. My prep team leaves. I bid them goodbye. They promise they'll be in the audience, cheering for me even if I have a terrible interview. Oh good. At least someone has faith in me.

"They even know I'm hopeless," I tell Cinna once they've left, covering my bare body with the robe provided for me by the Capitol. It smells of roses but everything here does. I've never liked the smell.

"You're not hopeless, Katniss," he whispers, grabbing the braid Flavius had crafted. He bobby pins it to my neck, swirling it and swirling it until it knots. Something different but then again something similar. "Just talk like you're speaking to a friend."

"None of these people are my friends," I grit through my teeth. No. All of these people are taking bets on my survival. They surely aren't my friends.

"I'm your friend, right?" Sure.

"Yes."

"Then act like you're talking to me. I will be in the first row. If you get nervous, try your best to find me and speak to me. They won't ask you anything to personal, Katniss. Probably just about the score and a few things about life back home."

If they asked this the interview would be short and bland, I'm sure of it. There isn't much to tell about life back home. I've spent a good majority of my years in District 12 being trained on how to kill. A few years in the woods but I couldn't tell anyone that. That would mean nothing but bad things for all the people back home. And I couldn't speak to anyone about my score. Maybe say something generic about "never in my wildest dreams expecting to get an eleven!". If that is all the interview consists of I should be fine, I guess. Cinna has done his job in easing my nerves.

"Are you setting me on fire tonight?" I reply sarcastically, my eyes wondering to the dress lying in a black bag. Cinna just smiles, his fingers working the strings of the bag. He pulls out a dress, one of red and oranges and golds. One of flames.

There's nothing ordinary about it. It isn't like the tribute parade outfit. The flames wouldn't distract from the dress. The flames were the dress. There were layers upon layers, my hands touching the silk before moving to the tensile, my fingertips leaving sparks as I moved along the fabric. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Do you like it?" Cinna asks. He unzips, taking a moment to squeeze my body into the constricting material. Along with the gold patterns on my skin, I am on fire. I am the Girl on Fire and all of Panem would know it.

"Like it? I love it."

The interviews are three minutes long, not to long but just long enough to make sure all that is said has to be said. Caesar Flickerman is the host, has been for years. He began when my parents we're younger. He has to be nearing seventy but he doesn't look a day over thirty. The Capitol has a lot of ways to keep you looking young and it appears he has done them all.

He wears the loudest suits, ones covered in glitter or tattooed Cheetah print, always dying his hair and eyebrows to match. This year he has decided on a purple, not a subtle purple like the color of the lavenders that grow in the meadow behind my home in the Seam, but purple, almost like the ink that has spilled from a pen. I decide I don't like it though it is an improvement from last years debacle with red. He appeared to be bleeding the entire span of the Hunger Games. From what I heard, it caused quite the stir here in the Capitol but that was all hear say from girls at the Academy who liked to gossip. Anyway, he's done away with the red and gone for the purple.

I don't agree with his outfit choices but he is a nice man. He never makes fun of the tributes or pokes at their heartache or gets frustrated when they run crying from the stage and yes, that has happened before. He helps out a lot, playing with the audience when it's obvious a batch of tributes aren't getting the praise they deserve, always asking follow up questions so the interviews run smoothly. He is one of the only people here in the Capitol I can say that for.

We sit in a circle around the stage, all the tribute pairs and singles, one through twelve. We have to walk down a long flight of stairs when our names are called, wave the audience who screams our names, accept a rose or two if their presented and then sit down with Caesar to being our night of fun. As soon as the first words are spoken, your three minutes begin.

Being District 12, once again, we go last. The audience is usually bored by the time it gets around to us though maybe this year, they'll be paying more attention. They seem to be a lively crowd, standing on their feet for every tribute who descends down the steps, waving and blowing kisses and cheering.

District 1 is first. They make no impression on me honestly. Glimmers voice is high and she laughs too much. Obviously trying to play up the sexy angle. Her dress is made of silver, glass almost and she looks ridiculous. When she points over to her stylist, a balding man with sunglasses on his face, he stands and bows but I don't know what for. The dress he created was hideous. Marvel is funny, telling a few jokes to Caesar who laughs hysterically. No one else does.

District 2 follows. Clove is cold, not answering any question straight forward. She flashes maybe one smile to the camera but I wouldn't even call it a smile. She's doing what Haymitch did, acting above it all and I must say it's working. It's making her intimidating, scary. I hope it isn't to late to change my angle. Cato is the same, telling Caesar and the audience over and over again how ready he is, clapping his hands together for emphasis. I don't doubt it.

The rest run together, my eyes glued to the Capitol citizens before me, cheering loudly and excitedly, not for a minute stopping to reflect on the fact that the next time they are here, they may see one of us, two if we're lucky. I try not to hate them as they smile up at me, wave to whoever is giving their interview, laugh at whatever is said. They don't know any better.

Rue is quiet with Caesar. Embarrassed about something he says by the way her cheeks color as the audience laughs. I feel a twinge of anger towards Caesar. He should not be making this small girl feel uncomfortable, he should be doing the opposite. She's dressed like a butterfly, something sweet and naive like her. I so badly want to run down there, wrap her up in the train of my dress, and do whatever I can to send her home now. She reminds me of Prim, the way her eyes run over things continuously, as if she's trying to understand things that don't have an explanation. But that's the way the world is in her eyes. Everything is new and exciting and I hate the feeling that soon, it will all be taken away from her.

I make a plan in my head then. If I die, Peeta must win. If we both die, Rue and Thresh must win. No one back home will get anything out of it, but I don't want to see the little girl with wandering eyes wherever I'm going once that cannon sounds.

My name is being called. I don't hear it but Peeta tugs impatiently on my arm, his eyebrows shooting up. I jump to my feet, wobbling slightly in my heels which are uncomfortable and loud as I walk. These would never be good for hunting. How do people where these so often? They are torture devices.

I hold the rail as I walk as a precaution. There are people, so many people that I couldn't see from my seat and now my airway feels tight. I look in the first row, my eyes searching desperately for Cinna. I find him among the many faces, smiling at me and nodding his head as I try my best to wave, to smile and appear friendly. I catch Haymitches eye then, watch him as he laughs into the sleeve of his tux. Effie elbows him, nodding fiercely at me to continue.

"Hello, Katniss," Caesar whispers in my ear, his arms coming around me to hug me. He tells me to calm down, below his microphone so only I will be able to hear the words. So my smiles must be giving the opposite impression of friendly and happy. "Katniss Everdeen, District 12!" He booms into his microphone, raising my hand above my head. I try to relax, looking into the balcony seats which have begun to chant my name. I seem to be a favorite, at least by the way the crowds reacting. It eases my nerves but not much. "Katniss, my dear, how are you?"

My eyes find Cinna. Talk to a friend. You are just talking to a friend. "Well Caesar, I'll tell you what, I've never been better fed in my life, I will tell you that." This earns a laugh from the people here in the Capitol but not from the people in District 12.

"Of course not, dear. So your stay in the Capitol has lived up to the expectations?" I nod my head. "Well that's lovely. You're dress, my God! It's unlike anything I've ever seen." His hands grip at the fabric.

"Careful! Don't want you to get burned now, do we?" Another laugh. My eyes flitter over to Haymitch who looks pleasantly surprised. He winks and Effie claps. "Isn't Cinna just the best? He works wonders, making a girl from District 12 look so amazing."

I know the cameras are all on Cinna now. He doesn't stand and bow like the District 1 stylist. He doesn't even clap. He just smiles. "You must tell us, what was going through your head during the tribute parade?"

"You mean after I got over the fear of burning to death?" I laugh. "I'm just lucky to have such an amazing prep team and stylist. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Oh, I'm sure you couldn't! Now, I would like to ask you questions about the Reaping." My stomach turns. I nod, urging him forward. "That little girl, the one you volunteered for, did you know her personally?"

I shake my head, looking towards Cinna yet again. "Her mother and my mother are friends, have been since a young age." Not a lie. "I couldn't fathom seeing a young girl go into the Games."

"And what about you? You're young, only sixteen. You don't worry?"

"Oh, I worry every day Caesar. But I have faith in Peeta and I as a team. We can do this. We are going to try our hardest to win, to come out Victors."

The audience erupts in applause. Standing on their feet just as our three minutes concludes. Wow. That was quick. I whisper a thanks to Caesar who does the same to me. An Avox is waiting for me at the staircase, offering me a hand as I start my journey back up. The seat next to mine is empty when I return but twenty-two other eyes are on me, following me as I sit. I don't look back. Instead, I watch Peeta who is already a minute into his interview, talking to Caesar about showers but I'm not sure I heard correctly.

He's using the humor angle perfectly, much better than Marvel had. The audience loves him. They clap and scream and cheer before he even says a word. He has the Capitol wrapped around his finger much like we all knew he would. It was impossible not to love Peeta and Panem had just discovered why.

"So Peeta, tell me, is there a girl back home?" Caesar asks, leaning forward to rest his elbow on his knee. The cameras shift to Peetas face which is turning red with embarrassment and I feel mine doing the same. It never occurred to me Peeta might have someone back home, a girl who was counting on his survival. I couldn't tell you whyI felt this way. Peeta and I were friends, if that. Why I was suddenly jealous of someone I wasn't sure existed was beyond me.

Peeta confirms my suspicions. "No, no girl back home."

"There has to be someone you've had your eye on." Maybe not but there were plenty that had their eye on him.

"Well, there is this one girl but I don't think she even noticed me until after the Reaping." The audience groans along with Caesar. I wonder who the girl was, if she went to see him like Gale had gone to see me. I wonder if they had a moment together, one where he told her he loved her and she did the same. It angers me in a way.

"Well I'll tell you what, you win this thing and every girl in District 12 will be banging on your door. How does that sound?" The audience claps, I don't.

"Well, you see, the thing is..." He trails off, his eyes flickering to the crowd. "The thing is..." The thing is what Peeta! WHAT? "She came here with me."

There is no cheering. None from Caesar, none from the crowd, none from the other tributes. In fact, if I had closed my eyes I may have envisioned I was in the woods alone again. But I wasn't. I was on live television, my face plastered on every surface of Panem, Peetas declaration played again and again and again.

I'm the girl. I'm the one back home.

I look up at the big screen, one that is alternating between Peetas uneasy expression and mine of pure shock. My cheeks are red, almost matching my dress and my mouth is agape, almost comical. I try my best to gather my senses, to not make myself look like some love struck girl but I'm finding it nearly impossible to when his words flow through my head. _She came here with me... she came here with me... she came here with me..._

It seems in the time it took for me to get my emotions under control, Peeta has finished his interview and has taken his place next to me, taking ahold of my hand as he does so. I want to pull away, push him far away from me because the gesture that used to be comforting is now the opposite. But I don't pull away because I know if I do, that really will be broadcasted all over Panem. Teen love in the Hunger Games, was unheard of. At least, it was until now. Until Peeta had completely shattered the thought of just being a team.

No one would remember the other interviews. They would be a blimp in the night of what the Capitol was now referring to as the "star-crossed lovers of District 12". In a matter of seconds it was projected all around the auditorium, citizens tripping over themselves to get a glimpse of Peeta and I. This was a game. It had to be. There was no way that Peeta, within himself, could find a way to project these feelings for me one live television if they were true. This was the work of Haymitch and Effie. Not him. Peeta Mellark did not long for me like he had told the Capitol. There is no way.

The lights fade out and we're whisked away, me running as quickly as my heels can take me. I lose a shoe in the process but don't care, slipping into the first elevator I see, sharing it with the pair from 7 who keep looking at me over their shoulder. I've started to cry now, certainly I've started to cry. Great. Not only has Peeta embarrassed me but he has also managed to make me look weak in front of our competitors.

I'm left alone for five floors, sinking to my knees until the bing of the elevators alerts me I'm home. I've already planned my escape, running as far as humanly possible to my room, not eating dinner or listening to Peetas pleads for my forgiveness. It was our last night before the Arena tomorrow and we had a lot to work out but I couldn't. Not tonight. I couldn't look at the boy with the bread.

But it seems fate had other plans because as soon as I step from the elevator, so do Effie and Haymitch and of course, Peeta. Their smiling. All of them are smiling and laughing and I am the only one who appears to be disgruntled by this. Maybe because I was the only who was misinformed, who was kept out of the trio.

I don't give myself any time to think before my fist connects with Peetas jaw, sending him flying towards the ground. He falls atop an urn, one that breaks into a million pieces. I worry for a minute he's hurt himself but he hasn't because within minutes he is on his feet, nursing the red mark that is appearing on his chin. "What the hell was that," I scream, swinging one more time. He's expecting this one and dodges it easily, grabbing ahold my fist. It hurts but I say nothing. Instead I bring my knee up, satisfied with the groan of pain he gives under the contact.

Haymitch has his arms wrapped around my middle, pulling me away from Peeta who has doubled over in pain. "What the hell was that!"

Haymitch grabs my chin, pulling me still until I'm looking at him. He's angry too. "What are you doing, girl?" I push his hands away with ease, stumbling backwards until my back collides with the wall. "He did you a favor you ungrateful brat!"

"He did me no favors! He made me look weak! He made me look like some lovestruck girl who has no place in-"

"You're a team! Anything you think the boy did to sabotage you is only hurting him as well," Haymitch tells me, shaking his head in disgust.

"Oh, we're a team, are we? Well how many other secrets are we keeping then, huh? What else have you two worked out that I don't know about? Please, let me know!"

"She's just worried about her boyfriend," Peeta spits, shaking away an Avox with ice.

A boyfriend? She can't be referring to Gale, can he?

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, and I don't care!" Haymitch says, exasperated. "He did the two of you a favor. You should be thanking him along with a lot of other things." He storms off then, not looking back.

"He's right, Katniss. He made you look desirable," Cinna says, coming to my side. He grabs ahold of my elbow as if I'll do something violent, dangerous. Hell, I might.

"There is no room for this kind of talk and behavior from either of you," Effie says. "I know I may be preaching to the choir here but you two are a team! This is no time to be against each other." She's right. This isn't the time.

I shake worried hands away from me and stomp up to my room, unable to look at Peetas bruised face and Effies scared eyes. I want to disappear, run away and hide but there was no time for that.

Peeta had known exactly what he was doing. He had his angle long before Haymitch and Effie pulled us into training. He wasn't charming or funny or self-deprecating like I had believed him too be. No. Along with help from Haymitch he composed a new angle. One that could be used for me too.

Love.

* * *

yes? no? maybe so?

The Games begin next chap.


End file.
